


Ink-Stained Fingers, Wood-Carved Hearts

by Mara97



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Friendship, Jesper is in Ravka, King of Scars is postponed, Light Angst, M/M, Six of crows never happened, Strangers to Lovers, Weapons (see plot), What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mara97/pseuds/Mara97
Summary: When Wylan fled for his life, he hadn't expected to end up working in the service of King Nikolai. He had expected to be blackmailed in working in the Grisha workshop, working on a weapon to defeat the dreaded Shu super soldiers. He especially hadn't expected his partner would be a charming fabrikator that would steal away his heart one conversation at a time. If Wylan only could read his soulmark, he would know if they were destined to grow old together or not.A what-if story with Wylan fleeing to Ravka. With Jesper attending the Little Palace and being able to use his powers. With two boys falling in love no matter the setting.
Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Wylan Van Eck & Nina Zenik
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54
Collections: Grishaverse Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such a good time with this project. It's a pretty chunky one, but when do I projects half-heartedly. It's **not** necessary to have read the Shadow and Bone trilogy for this story, though it helps with background characters and setting. There are no spoilers for King of Scars. 
> 
> The wonderful art-piece in this chapter is done by [Olivia](https://wellwatersurprise.tumblr.com/). There will be more art-pieces in future chapters and you can find everyone that participated in this story in this [Post](https://lavanderstarcatcher.tumblr.com/post/628456982439968768/ink-stained-fingers-wood-carved-hearts).

When his father had tried to kill him, Wylan knew that he had to get out of his reach. Staying in Ketterdam would be his death sentence. Jan van Eck was one of the wealthiest merchants in Kerch. He easily would be able to hire an army of henchman to find Wylan and kill him. If Wylan somehow managed to escape Ketterdam, his father would likely put a poster. A reward for whoever finds his missing son. He knows that the reward could change people’s lives, which meant that Wylan wasn’t safe anywhere. At least, anywhere in Kerch. 

Wylan found himself at the harbour of Ketterdam. It was a vast space, but he was familiar with it. Before his father had deemed him useless, the two of them had visited them together. The streets were suspiciously quiet, setting him on edge. Yet, there was nobody to rob him of the little money he carried. He was grateful for that since he had planned to use it for bribery. If any decent sailor would be willing to take it.

Arriving at the dock, Wylan noticed that the quietness had extended to here. A couple of ships were loading up their goods, preparing for take-off at dawn. Ideally, Wylan would be sneaking onboard when nobody was looking. He did know most models of ships like the back of his hand, knew that most had secret pockets of space he could hide in. But he wasn’t sneaky and the silence of the night would give his presence away easily. He needed a miracle—a distraction.

Wylan’s distraction came in the form a ship that caught flame a few minutes later. The fire was bright in the night and spread quickly to its neighbour. The quiet of the night was broken, filled with shouts of panic and fear. Wylan saw that the sailors abandoned their work. Some tried to help save the ships, others just fled. Nobody wanted to be aboard their boat as it caught fire, which was a sure thing to happen. There was a steady wind, the fire was roaring, and the boats were close to one another. Not to mention that they were all made out of wood.

Scanning the area to see if the coast was clear, Wylan spotted several figures boarding one of the ships. Their bodies were covered in cloaks, faces hidden in the shadows of the hoods. He realised with a start—the noise he made was unheard over the roaring of the flames—that it had been a distraction. But who were these people?

The ship could have been a clue, but it only left him puzzled. The vessel the cloaked strangers had boarded headed to Ravka, carrying minimal valuable goods. There was nothing of value aboard and Ravka wasn’t really a country you wanted to go to. If you wanted a new life, you either went to Fjerda or Novyi Zem, but not Ravka. Unless…

Unless the stowaways were Grisha. It made sense that they wanted to go to Ravka, not to mention that the fire could have been Grisha made. Especially seeing as it, miraculously, hadn’t spread further than three ships.

He didn’t know why he made the decision, but all plans to go to Fjerda were thrown out of the window. At first, it was because he just couldn’t shake off the coincidence. What were the odds that multiple parties would try to escape Ketterdam at the same time? But after reasoning, it wasn’t just that.

He had wanted to go to Fjerda because he spoke the language well. However, it likely would be the first place his father would be looking for him. Ravka, on the other hand, was the last place his father expected him to go. Simply because he didn’t expect Wylan to have the nerve to tempt fate.

Soulmarks were odd. Technically, only you and your soulmate were able to read each other’s mark. But that didn’t mean others couldn’t entirely see them. While for Wylan, they were all blurry and over the place, his father had been able to figure out that the words on his hip were Ravkan. Wylan, unable to read, didn’t know his words. He would never know if he has met his soulmate and likely, that fear made him predictable. Predictable in the way that he would never try to find his soulmate, to avoid heartbreak.

Wylan decided that while he wasn’t going to try to find his soulmate, he was going to use his father’s expectations of him. He was going to Ravka.

Seizing the opportunity, Wylan half ran, half snuck towards the ship. At least a couple of times he expected to be caught, but it seemed that the dockworkers weren’t going to risk their lives. Likely, there were no captains present, not bothering with the late hours and hard work. Ship crew was only as loyal as their jobs were worth. He had seen the figures, he knew that the job wasn’t worth dying over, especially with no captain putting them in place.

Out of breath, Wylan walked up the gangplank. His heart was somewhere in the back of his throat, and he had left his stomach somewhere on the docks. He likely had forgotten his courage at home as he was shaking in his boots the moment they hit the deck.

He wondered if Ravka was a good idea. He had planned on going to Fjerda and changing those plans so suddenly was ridiculous. Additionally, if there were Grisha onboard, they likely wouldn’t take too kindly to him. Maybe they just kicked him out, but they also had the means to kill him.

But despite his doubt, Wylan squared his shoulders and stepped off the gangplank.

Remembering the ship’s layout, Wylan headed to the entrance that leads to below the deck. He was already looking for a torch and flint since none were lit, but it turned out that it wasn’t necessary. The group of Grisha, Wylan counted six of them, were huddled in the hallway. Several had lit their own candles, chasing away the darkness that had coated the narrow hallway. They were discussing loudly in Ravkan. Wylan easily could follow along, though the more difficult words caused him to lose track of the sentence.

Gathering the sliver of courage he head, he cleared his throat, holding up his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t recommend hiding in the belly,” Wylan said slowly, the Ravkan words foreign on his lips. He might have made butchered their language, but the Grisha seemed to get the overall gist.

“Why not?” One of them asked. They all were looking at Wylan, some of them already having raised their hands. For a Grisha, raising their hands wasn’t surrender. It was readying themselves for an attack.

Wylan hadn’t really planned this, so he came up with the first thing that made sense.

“The crew will check the ship for theft and stowaways. They will realise that the fire was a distraction. The captain will never let them leave without checking the ship,” Wylan said, making up the logic as talked. It actually made sense.

One of the Grisha spoke up, a woman this time. To his surprise, she spoke perfect Kerch. She was his age, tall and well-fed. It was a stark contrast to the other Grisha, who looked haggard. Her skin was pale in the candlelight, her long brown hair almost golden.

“Then why are you here?” she asked. Her tone was kind, but her gaze cautious. She had her hands raised.

“Well, you weren’t a part of my plan,” Wylan admitted. “So I hadn’t quite realised that the distraction would also cause a dock-wide search for anything amiss.”

The Grisha that first had spoken picked up the conversation again. His Kerch wasn’t great, but Wylan figured that his Ravkan was the same. “But you still followed us while there are other ships. You thought we were Grisha and easy money.”

“I didn’t follow you for easy money—do you think I could defeat any of you, even in single combat?” There were murmurs of agreement. “I did suspect you were Grisha. This ship heads to Ravka and the fire is oddly… controlled.”

The first Grisha grimaced a look of guilt painted on his gaunt features.

“Nina,” one of the Grisha’s said, her voice sharp. “What are we supposed to do now? We hardly can hijack the ship. There are too few of us, and we don’t have experience sailing.” The Grisha eyed Wylan warily. She spoke to him in Ravkan. “You know how to sail?”

Wylan nodded. “Theoretically, yes. There isn’t enough crew to man this ship.” He said, confirming the Grisha’s worry. 

He remembered having looked up this ship. He had planned his escape for weeks, doing all the research he could. This was an old ship, requiring a lot of physical labour to get it up and running. It wasn’t a new or sleek model. Decades ago, if not almost a century, it was a luxury ship. It was used to escort important figures across the True Sea. Back then, it was the best of the best. But they never remade it and the ship, over the generations, was reduced to a simple transport ship. But for an old boat, it still looked well. Just outdated.

Then he remembered. One of his teachers liked telling stories a lot. She told him about how back in the day, the ships were made with the help of fabrikators. The ships were light, almost unbreakable, and cursed. Sailors are superstitious people. Nobody wanted to sail a cursed ship, so they stopped making the ships. The existing ones were downgraded to simple vessels, used by lesser sailors. The ones that didn’t quite believe in ghosts. His teacher hadn’t been convinced that the ships were actually cursed. And even if they were, why give up such a great vessel.

“Is there a fabrikator amongst you,” Wylan asked. The Grisha looked startled, already having returned to their own conversation. He was relieved that they didn’t see him as a threat. 

“Why?” Nina—the brunette—asked.

“I believe that this ship might be made by fabrikators. It explains it’s century-old life-span,” Wylan explained, running his hand across the wall. It felt perfectly normal. “I also believe that there are secrets aboard these ships, ones that people long have forgotten about.”

“And you know this how?” The very first Grisha asked, this time opting for Ravkan. It seemed that the effort of Kerch wasn’t worth it for all them aside from Nina. 

“My father is a merchant,” Wylan said, the word ‘father’ heavy on his tongue. “He trained me as his successor, so history was also an essential part. Admittedly, I liked the stories much better than the cold, hard, facts. The first ships that were made in collaboration between Ravka and Kerch. But the collaboration stopped when sailors started to think that the ships were haunted. Ghosts roamed the hallways, treasure disappeared, people disappeared. The Grisha got all the blame. I think, however, that there is an easier explanation. I think that there are secrets aboard. Maybe secret rooms that the Ravkan’s never told the Kerch about.”

“It sounds possible,” a new Grisha said. It was another girl, one that hadn’t been participating in any of the conversations. Even in the dim candlelight, she looked flustered. “I could look for it.”

Another Grisha volunteered to go with her, and the two disappeared down the hallway. This still left Wylan with four other Grisha’s, who didn’t look too exciting to have him here.

“If you’re a merchant’s son, why would you run off to Ravka,” the first Grisha asked, clearly sceptical about Wylan’s motivation.

“My father and I… disagree over a couple of things,” Wylan said, hoping that the Grisha wouldn’t pry. They, of course, did.

“Like what?” Nina asked. She had yet to fully relax, and she seemed to like him the best of all the Grisha.

“Whenever I should live or not,” Wylan hated the hitch in his voice.

He should already have gotten over it. It has been weeks that his father had tried to get him killed. Miraculously, he had escaped. It was even a bigger miracle that he still hadn’t been found, though he figured that his father expected him to travel away from Ketterdam on foot and not by ship.

One of the Grisha whistled. “Good reason to run away. But why Ravka and not Fjerda? I know Fjerda and Kerch are on good terms.”

“Which is exactly why he expects me to go there,” Wylan said, leaving his soulmate out of the picture, for now.

Only one of the Grisha’s returned soon after. There was an excited gleam in his eyes, confirming Wylan’s theory. There was a secret space somewhere on this ship, likely to hide treasure or refugees in the past. 

“The kid was right,” Grisha said as if Wylan was at least a decade younger. Wylan figured that it might be a couple of years, at best. “We have found the perfect hiding spot.”

The Grisha started to whisper excitedly. Despite that he should feel victorious, Wylan was rooted to the spot, unsure what to do. Could he come with them, or would they kick him out? He definitely wouldn’t win a battle with them. They no longer needed him either, since they now had their lodging for the trip.

“Are you coming?” Nina called, waving at him. She was the last one that hadn’t left already.

Wylan scrambled after her, relief and panic fighting one another. “Are you sure,” he asked, almost slamming into Nina. He sounded out of breath.

“We would’ve been sitting ducks without you,” Nina said sincerely. “And who knows, you might come in useful as a bargaining chip if needed. You’re a merchant’s son, and if he wants you dead, he might be willing to pay for our freedom.”

“That’s harsh,” Wylan said. It was harsh, but the sensible thing to do. Wylan always had a home, good food and a family. The Grisha had a civil war a couple of years ago, they were hated in their own country, many of them were trapped in other countries with only the clothes on their back. The Grisha had the opportunity to go home and likely would do anything to make it.

“Only learned from the best.” Nina’s smile reminded him of every thug his father had in his estate, paying them to do his dirty work. 

As the smile turned friendlier, Wylan changed his opinion. It wasn’t just a simple thug Nina had reminded him of. She had reminded him of the most dangerous thugs of them all. The Barrel bosses, the brains behind the gangs. The likes of Kaz Brekker. Seeing that Nina had been relatively well off compared to the other Grisha, Wylan wouldn’t have been surprised if she was connected to some of the gangs in any way or form. There was safety in numbers, and the barrels didn’t play by the rules.

While he kept his unease about Nina in the back in his mind, Wylan felt his heart thump loudly as he saw the open door. It was a pretty big door and no way you could miss it. But yet, it clearly had been overlooked for decades. Peering into the room, Wylan saw that a thick layer of dust had gathered. Buried beneath the layer of dust was gold. To his surprise, a gust of fresh wind tugged at his curls and cooled his face. Then, it was like a whirlwind came out of nowhere. The few Grisha in the room coughed and yelled as the wind blew dust in their faces. 

The wind settled, and the room looked brand new. The gold was shining, and there wasn’t a single speck of dust to be seen. Even the Grisha caught in the whirlwind were dustfree.

“Get in,” Nina urged. “I think you guys made enough noise to wake the entirety of Ketterdam.”

There were seven of them, and yet it wasn’t a tight fit at all. Each of the stowaways had plenty of space to stand, sit, and even lie down. The door closed behind them, blending entirely in the wall except for a doorknob. Wylan figured that there wasn’t one on the other side.

Wylan’s heart was pounding as he sat down, brushing away some of the gold. It wasn’t an awful lot, but he imagined that it was a lot for the people in Ravka. Not only some of their Grisha returned home, but they also had gold with them. It made Wylan feel a little bit safer, knowing that they could buy their way out of this situation if push comes to shove.

~*~

Wylan had never seen fabrikator work up close. Their hiding space had a steady airflow without the temperature rising or dropping. There was always the smell of sea-salt in the air, but it wasn’t too humid to cause his hair to curl. There were twelve fold-out beds hidden in the wall where they could sleep on. The mattresses weren’t as thick and plush as he was used to, but Wylan preferred it over the wooden floor. Not to mention that there was a second door inside their room. It was a trapdoor with a ladder. The space was narrow, only fitting Wylan or the fabrikator. It had led to the storeroom, which meant they easily could smuggle in food and water. Wylan thought he was going to die when he was retrieving stock, but it was worth it in the end. Never before had people been so happy to see him. The ship and its crew were none the wiser, having set sail the morning after the fire incident. 

“King Nikolai would love this,” the fabrikator said, running her fingers over the smooth wall. It had been days since they set sail, but she never stopped poking around the space. She wanted to know how it worked, and admittedly, so did Wylan.

“Maybe we could give him one for his birthday,” Nina joked, munching on some stale crackers. Wylan liked her the best of all the Grisha. She had been nothing but kind to him and even talked to him. The other Grisha mostly tolerated his presence. “The king really wants a century-old ship.”

The fabrikator grumbled under her breath and just kept poking around. The other four Grisha were doing their own thing, some chatting, others trying to read whatever book they managed to smuggle on their journey. Wylan figured they hadn’t expected to actually have time to read and seized the opportunity

“I don’t think she was necessarily talking about this ship,” Wylan told Nina. 

“Oh, then what was she talking about?” Nina raised an eyebrow in a challenge. She was really expressive in that way.

“The beneficial factor of having a secret space inside a ship,” Wylan said, wishing he had a paper to sketch out his idea. “You could smuggle Grisha from Fjerda to Ravka without anybody ever realising. You can hide in an enemy ship and strike them when they’re at their weakest. Not to mention, living spaces like these don’t have to be excluded to ships. You can hide valuables and people right under people's noses, and the only ones that can find them are fabrikators.”

“What he said,” the fabrikator piped in, surprising Wylan. “Imagine if you can increase the size of this thing. You can hide away entire villages in places like these—are you sure you aren’t a fabrikator? You think like one.”

“I wouldn’t have been here if I was one,” Wylan said.

“Of course, most fabrikators don’t leave the Little Palace. I think only recently they started to train fabrikators. I haven’t been to the Little Palace in a long while,” the fabrikator said wistfully.

The other Grisha, including Nina, seemed to grow mystified by their reminder of home. Wylan wondered what the Little Palace was like, though he would never see it for himself.

It was well into the night when Nina asked the question Wylan had been waiting for. He had realised early on that Nina was much more observant than others gave her credit for. She, also together with the fabrikator, was the only one that talked to him.

“You would’ve never left Ketterdam if you were a fabrikator, would you?” Nina asked. The rest, thankfully, was vast asleep.

“Knowing my father, not a chance,” Wylan answered, figuring that the truth couldn’t hurt. 

The way that Nina looked at him made his skin crawl. She looked concerned, which was the last thing he wanted. There were many what-ifs in his life, but many of these what-ifs couldn’t be changed. He never would’ve been free if he had been a Grisha. Even as a Grisha, he still could be illiterate. Being Grisha didn’t cure that. But now he was free, and his soulmate was safe. Because Wylan could never find him.

“She likes you,” Nina said, changing the topic entirely. “The fabrikator.”

“I think she likes talking to someone that knows what she is talking about,” Wylan offered. 

“But you also have a proper conversation with her,” Nina said. Wylan was wondering where this conversation was going.

“Only two people talk to me, and you spend most of the time asking questions or moaning about the lack of sweets.” Wylan sagged a little in relief when Nina didn’t do anything to him. At times, he was a little jumpy around her, knowing that she could kill him quickly. She was a heartrender, after all. She could stop his heart in seconds. “Of course I talk with her, especially since I love these topics.”

That was a lie. Wylan didn’t mind these topics, he liked knowing how things worked. How were the fabrikators able to build this room? Keep it clean, keep it dry and keep the air fresh? But it wasn’t his passion. That was music, artistry. But since that was heavily discouraged by his father, he had taken up an interest in numbers and chemistry. Useful things he actually could grasp.

He did not mind talking to the fabrikator, though. She asked for his input, and it felt, for the first time in maybe his entire life, he was someone’s equal. Of course, he couldn’t compare to an actual fabrikator. But it seemed the girl didn’t mind. She was just happy to talk about the work the past generations of Grisha had accomplished. 

“What are your plans when we arrive in Os Kervo,” Nina asked.

Wylan wrapped his blanket tighter around him. While there was plenty of work in Os Kervo, it was too dangerous. His father might go to Ravka for some business meeting, and he couldn’t risk being spotted. He doubted that his father would give him up. While alive, Wylan could still ruin the van Eck name.

“Travel to a close-by village and do physical labour.” Wylan knew how ridiculous he sounded. He didn’t look the part. Small, soft hands, pale skin from the lack of sunshine. He wasn’t an outdoor type. But he could get used to that. He would freckle ridiculously, likely get a sunburn, but he would manage. But they would take one look at his thin arms and put him with the girls and women. 

Nina _tsk-ed_ , shaking her head. “You’ll be wasted there. Ravka has the people who can do the heavy labour, we need the _thinkers_. You can keep up with a fabrikator’s conversation, you have a formal education, you remember that this specific ship was made by fabrikators over a century ago. You knew the destination of each ship that was docked there. I think there would be more opportunities in Os Alta then in a small village.”

“Too far away,” Wylan said, an edge of bitterness in his voice. While Nina was painting the perfect picture, he was also aware that sooner than later, he would be caught. He couldn’t read or write, and someone would notice soon enough. Even if he had to do something with his hands, he eventually would have to read _something_. Nobody wanted to hire someone illiterate for their brains.

“On your own, yes,” Nina said, a twinkle in her eyes. “But that wasn’t a no. Will you give it a shot if I come with you? I could help you with your Ravkan, and I won’t have to spend weeks on the road alone.”

Wylan felt his cheeks grow warm. “Is my Ravkan that bad?” he asked.

“It needs some work,” Nina said, grimacing a little. “But it isn’t bad. It’s mostly your pronunciation that’s off like you learnt the words from a page.”

Technically, he had learnt the words from his tutor. But the man hadn’t been Ravkan and only had learnt the language in theory. It was hard to pronounce the words. His Fjerdan was better, but he knew that it too sounded like classroom Fjerdan. No dialect, no accent, no nothing.

“Thank you,” Wylan said in earnest.

“I should be thanking you,” Nina said, grasping Wylan’s hands. “I don’t think we would be on our way home without you. You had been right about the ship-wide search.”

“You could’ve killed them and get the ship moving on its own. You have one tidemaker and two squallers with you, it should’ve been possible.”

Nina laughed softly, clearly trying not to wake up the rest. “I would have given us low odds for reaching Ols Alta.”

“Low odds are better than none,” Wylan said. The odds had been low that he would escape Ketterdam alive, yet he was here. 

~*~

Os Kervo’s port was crawling with people during daytime—according to Nina—but it was close to deserted during the night. When most of the crew was gone, the group of seven finally decided to leave their hiding spot. Nina made quick work of the two people they ran into, and suddenly, they were free.

Wylan’s boots thudded loudly against the dock, the noise sending his heart in overdrive. The Grisha, Nina included, looking around fearfully. Wylan only had to remember that most of them were taken unwillingly from their home.

“We’re home,” the fabrikator whispered, crouching down to touch the filthy dock. “We’re finally home.”

They walked towards the city itself, waiting for someone to notice them. But the streets were mostly deserted, and the occupants did not bother to pay them attention. 

“Should we get a room at an inn?” The inferi—the very first person that had spoken to Wylan—asked. There was both longing and fear in his voice. 

“I vote we should keep going,” Nina said, eyes never stopping to take in the surroundings. “There are many foreigners here.”

Exhausted, shaky and sore, Wylan watched the dock change into a city, the city change into small clusters of homes to green. The inferni struck flint and made a flame that lit up their path. Ravka looked so wildly different from Ketterdam. Wylan was used to the small canals, to the narrow buildings and the never-ending buzz of people. Os Kervo, despite being the main port, couldn’t even compare to Ketterdam at night. The countryside here was virtually deserted, the roads framed with low bushes and the earth marred with trenches. 

“What’s your first impression?” Nina asked, her pride for her country clearly audible. 

“It’s… quiet.” Wylan figured that this was his best answer. It wasn’t ugly, it wasn’t beautiful, it was just quiet and deserted.

“I can hear myself thinking,” the inferni said. “I can’t believe I’m actually missing Ketterdam.”

There were some laughs and cries of disbelief. The inferni got jostled around, his fire flickering. Wylan couldn’t help but smile, despite that he wasn’t exactly part of the group. He missed home fiercely, but he could create a new home—a home without his father and where he might find a purpose.

~*~

After the Unsea—or what used to be the Unsea—the group split up. There had been rumours about the Khregud—Shu warriors that were made to kill Grisha—had been sighted in Ravka. A big group like theirs would act as a beacon. So they split up. They all were heading towards Os Alta, but they took different routes. The gold from the ship was enough to allow them to travel comfortably, so it was no hardship to take a detour. Wylan stuck with Nina. The inferni and fabrikator—who apparently used to work for the same guy—would also travel together. The three remaining Grisha went off on their own. They had plenty of combat experience to fight off a Khregud, at least, Wylan hoped for them that they did.

“How do you pronounce this?” Wylan asked, pointing at a random word in the book Nina had given. The letters were swimming in front of him. 

Nina pronounced the word, and Wylan copied her. They had been at it for at least a week already, and he wondered when she would catch on. The book had been a curse, and he tried to avoid using it as much as possible. His best excuse was that he would learn the most by speaking Ravkan since he had a pretty decent vocabulary already. It was just pronunciation. Nina seemed to buy it.

He started at the pages for maybe ten more minutes, trying to make sense of what he was reading. It just wasn’t working, just like it hadn’t worked back then. He tried for another five minutes before Nina took the book from him, shaking her head. “Okay, clearly, you aren’t cooperating, so we’re going to just practice pronunciation. Tell me about your soulmate.”

“No.” It was a knee-jerk reaction, stopping any talk about soulmates. It always felt like he lost a little of himself when he talked about soulmates, or if someone talked about theirs.

“Come on, you haven’t told me anything yet. Though I’m convinced that your soulmate is Ravkan. Why else go to Ravka? Novyi Zem would have been the better option. So tell me about her,” Nina almost begged, her eyes shining a little. 

When he first met her, he would have fallen for her tricks. But he had learnt that Nina was an amazing actress. They managed to score free rides from a nobleman to get them to Os Alta much faster and much cheaper. At least, that would’ve been the case if Nina didn’t donate most of the money to the poor farmers they passed. Wylan figured the coins would serve them better than they would a merchant anyway. 

“He,” Wylan corrected. “It’s most definitely a he, and I don’t want to tempt fate. There is a reason that only you and your soulmate can read the words.”

Nina moped and moaned and batted her eyelashes at him, but it didn’t work. Eventually, she sighed, flopping down next to Wylan. “Should have known that it’s a guy. Can I at least try to read it?”

“Okay.” It wasn’t okay, but he figured that it couldn’t do any harm. Nina had been nothing but kind to him, and it was unlikely that she was his soulmate. If she was, they had to be platonic soulmates. It wouldn’t be the worst, honestly. “And no, I’m not stripping.”

This was what he told Alys, his step-mom. It was weird to call her his step-mom, seeing as she might be only five to ten year older than him. She had panicked when Wylan had shoved a part of his pants and underwear down. He had wished that it was on his ribs instead on his hip, but alas, he couldn’t pick the placement. At least it wasn’t on his behind.

Nina rolled over and peered at him. Despite that it was entirely platonic, Wylan couldn’t help but squirm as Nina took her sweet, sweet time going over his blurry soulmate words.

“I agree that it’s Ravkan,” Nina said after a long while, finally looking away. “Also, I think that is the longest soulmark I have ever seen.”

Wylan hadn’t seen many soulmarks, but he knew that six words was an uncommon length. Your soulmate words were rarely the first one your soulmate would utter, so no wacky greetings. They usually were the words that identified the shift in your relationship. The moment that your feelings just went over that particular threshold. The most common ones were ‘you’re beautiful’, ‘I love you’ and ‘I trust you’. It’s usually declarations, confessions, compliments. Wylan wondered why his soulmate had so many words for him.

“Maybe he’s talkative,” Wylan said, shrugging.

“Maybe,” Nina said, a pondering look on her face. “Maybe things will look up when we arrive in Os Alta.”

“Maybe.”

~*~

“When you said that you could find me work in Os Alta, I wasn’t envisioning working in the Grand Palace,” Wylan said, mustering all the bravado he could find. There was very little.

“Well, I could vouch for you,” Nina chirped, dragging Wylan towards the gates. The guards looked alarmed, clearly unsure what to do with the situation at hand. “It pays well enough, and king Nikolai will watch over you. I doubt that there is a much safer place to hide from your father.”

“He could also hand me over to my father for a nice sum of money,” Wylan protested. He had tried to break free, but Nina had an iron grip on his arm. 

“As long as you don’t give him your full name, you likely will be safe,” Nina said, stopping in front of the guards.

“State your name and reason for visit,” one of the guards said, angling their swords towards them.

“I’m Nina Zenik. I used to travel with Zoya Nazyalensky, but we got separated during our mission,” Nina said charmingly, her head held high.

One of the guards went to fetch Zoya, and Wylan really hoped that Nina was telling the truth. The other guard was now eyeing Wylan, looking confused at what he was doing here.

“M’am, is he a problem?” the guard eventually asked.

“Not at all, he’s just nervous,” Nina said, relaxing her grip on Wylan’s arm.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t tell me we’re going to see the king,” Wylan said, not bothering to whisper. He didn’t want to look suspicious by whispering.

The guard looked slightly puzzled, as there was something that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

Before he could make up his mind, the other guard returned with a woman. He had heard about Zoya Nazyalensky before. She was a skilled squaller and very loyal to king Nikolai. She was a pretty woman, with brown skin and long black hair. Her face was fierce, making her look intimidating. The idea of meeting the king suddenly was less terrifying than meeting Zoya Nazyalensky.

“I can’t believe that you’re actually back,” Zoya said, her words kinder than Wylan expected. “Where the fuck have you been and who is that?”

“I will explain later.” Nina put Wylan in front of her. He wondered if she realised he made a terrible meat-shield. “This is Wylan...”

“Hendriks,” Wylan added. “Wylan Hendriks.”

Nina rolled with the punches and continued straight on. “Right, this is Wylan. He smuggled us to Ravka.”

Zoya didn’t seem to be convinced, but she signalled the guards to let them in. Nina finally let go of Wylan’s arm and started to follow Zoya into the palace. He figured that sticking with Nina was his best bet, so he followed her. He got as far as getting into the palace before Zoya forced someone to babysit him.

The man was tall and strong-looking, with dark hair, brown skin and golden eyes. Wylan figured he likely was from Shu Han. It turned out, he was also very fond of poetry.

Wylan never expected to talk with a stranger about Ravkan poetry in the middle of the Grand Palace, yet, here he was. It was actually a lot of fun. So much so that he even had forgotten where he was for a moment. That was shattered when a guard came to bring the news that king Nikolai was willing to see him.

“But how will I get there?” Wylan asked the guard that brought the news. 

The guard looked confused, looking over Wylan’s shoulder. He followed the guard’s gaze, looking at the guy that he had spent the last hour-or-so talking with. That wasn’t king Nikolai, right? While there were rumours that Nikolai was a bastard, he was quite sure the stories talked about a Fjerda father, not Shu.

“Tolya will escort you. He’s, after all, a member of the king’s personal guard.” The guard wasn’t even teasing him, which was worse. Now he couldn’t use the ‘I’m a farmer son’s’ spiel, not after discussing poetry with one of the members of king Nikolai’s inner circle. 

“Thanks,” he told the guard.

The guard left, and Wylan turned to the giant man, trying to look less terrified than he felt. From the sheepish look that Tolya gave him, he wasn’t doing so well. At least he got a reassuring pat on the shoulder before Tolya led him towards the throne room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, guess who hasn't uploaded in half a year? That is me. Before Covid-19, I already struggled with writing and ever since lockdown I had been on an all-time low. But this was a really fun project to work on. I have been wanting to write something for this fandom for a while, but never bothered with it. So here I am. I hoped you enjoyed the first chapter, despite that it's mostly set-up. Jesper will show up next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I posted the previous chapter, like yesterday. But here is the second one and I hope to have the rest of the story up much faster than this! Thanks to everyone that has been reading up until now, the pining will finally begin.

King Nikolai gave him a job at the Grand Palace. It was mostly cleaning. He didn’t mind necessarily, but it was a little surreal to be surrounded mostly by women. He had grown up surrounded mainly by men. It seemed the experience was mutual. The women didn’t seem to know what to do with him, clearly unfamiliar with having a boy among their midst. The few men that were cleaners were quite a bit older than he was.

Since he was new, they usually gave him frustrating jobs. Bathing rooms, in particular, were often reserved for the new people. Hard floors, few people around and terrible smells. The girl who was with him—she was also new—had been scrubbing the same spot for the last ten minutes. She hadn’t been overly successful despite her vigorous scrubbing.

“Wylan, could you try,” the girl asked breathily. “It just won’t go away.”

Wylan happily stopped wiping the floor and crawled over to where the other cleaner had been scrubbing away. It was at the bottom of the bath, not quite around the drain, but close enough to it. It didn’t take Wylan long to figure out what it was. Mineral build-up. He had been taught in chemistry how water was made out of many substances, including the likes of calcium. Over time, calcium and other minerals could harden. If not cleaned, it could build-up.

“I think I know what to do,” Wylan said, trying to scratch away the white substance. He was unsuccessful. “Do you have any vinegar in the palace?”

The girl nodded.

“Could you fetch it?”

The girl nodded and got up, leaving Wylan alone in the washing room. Wylan returned to scrubbing the floor since that had to be done anyway. By the time he was mostly done, the girl had returned with a bottle of cooking vinegar.

“I told the people in the kitchen the king requested it,” she said nervously, handing it over to him. “I don’t think they would be happy if we use vinegar for whatever you’re planning.”

Wylan filled a bucket with a shallow pool of warm water. He poured a little of the vinegar in it, his nose itching at the smell. He picked up the toothbrush the girl previously had used and stirred the two liquids.

“What are you doing?” the girl asked curiously, peering over Wylan’s shoulder.

“Diluting the vinegar, since it’s a pretty aggressive acid.” Technically, it was cooking vinegar, but they likely used the more potent stuff and just diluted it.

Wylan continued to explain how the acid could break down the calcium since that was considered an alkaline. The girl looked more and more confused, but Wylan took no note of it. When he figured that it was correctly mixed, he plugged the drain of the bath and poured the content in the bath. The fumes hit him like a sledgehammer, and he worried that he had just ruined the bath.

After soaking, Wylan put on a pair of gloves and started to scrub. It took no time to get rid of the build-up. After diluting the water further to lower the acid level, Wylan flushed the water away. The stank stuck around, but the bath never had looked cleaner. The girl was staring at him with wide eyes, mouth agape.

“How did you know that?” she asked, looking at the bath to double-check. It was gone.

“My father worked in a chemistry factory,” Wylan lied. She seemed to believe him.

~*~

Within a couple of months, everyone in the staff somehow seemed to know Wylan. This wasn’t limited to just the cleaning staff. Most of the guards seemed to know who he was. He generally was known as the ‘cleaning wizard’. If there was something that you couldn’t clean or fix, go to Wylan and he would offer a solution.

In some cases, that was true. In others, he wondered how they imagined their problem to be fixable. Blood-stained clothes, he could fix. A shredded t-shirt, on the other hand, he couldn’t. He didn’t have the tailoring skills for that.

“You’re Wylan, right?” someone asked.

Sighing—knowing fully well that he would be dragged into someone else’s problems—Wylan turned around to face the person addressing him. He had expected to see one of the cleaning crew, but instead, there was a soldier. A female soldier. A Shu soldier, dressed in similar clothes to the man that had escorted him the first day in the Grand Palace.

“Yes, I’m Wylan,” he said cautiously. He wasn’t going to badmouth someone who could be the king’s personal guard.

The woman snorted. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to ask you to wash the blood out of my sheets.”

“Why is it always the blood?” Wylan grumbled. It was easy! Don’t use warm water, use soap to wash it out. If you need something more robust, use lemon juice. The sooner, the better. Sometimes salt also worked.

“There is a lot of bloodshed in war,” the woman said calmly. Seeing that she was armed to her teeth, Wylan figured she did a lot of the blood-shedding. “Now, come, king Nikolai wants to see you.”

Wylan fully and well expected his father to be at the king’s side for this visit. He had met king Nikolai only once, and the king had barely addressed him. Nina had done most of the talking for him. But he recognised the cunning in the man's eyes, how calculated every word was. Wylan was aware that his father was rich, and handing him over to Jan van Eck could get Ravka a lot of money.

But they didn’t head over to the throne room. From his months exploring the palace, he knew that the woman was leading him to the king’s private quarters. Very few people were allowed here. He wondered if he got a promotion, to clean the king’s quarters. But that would be foolish. The king likely had more trustworthy people working in the palace than him.

Wylan’s escort knocked on an unassuming door, opened it and ushered Wylan inside. She didn’t follow him, closing the door behind him. He had ended up in some living space. There was a warm fire going, and the king was lounging in a chair. There wasn’t a guard in sight, which was slightly worrisome. Wylan didn’t have the skills to kill the king, but it wasn’t like the others knew that.

“Take a seat,” king Nikolai said, gesturing to one of the plush chairs.

Figuring that obeying was the best decision, Wylan sat down on the chair and faced the king. He wedged his hands between his legs, hoping to contain his nerves.

“Wylan Hendriks, or to be more exact, Wylan van Eck.” King Nikolai didn’t even look his way when he spoke those words. “Son of Jan van Eck, who is a very well respected and rich merchant in Ketterdam. He’s looking for you.”

King Nikolai produced a leaflet from a pocket, handing it over to Wylan. The likeness wasn’t quite there, but it was him alright. And a reward of a hundred-thousand Kruche. He didn’t know what the rest said, but likely a plea to find Wylan. He imagined the king almost salivating at the idea of that much money. All he had to do was bring Wylan back home, and suddenly there was a lot more money to rebuild his country.

“You’re going to hand me in?” Wylan asked, gripping the leaflet tighter to stop his hands from shaking.

The last thing Wylan expected was king Nikolai snorting. “That much money won’t buy me a brain,” the king said, casually lounging in his chair. “Nina told me that your father tried to kill you.”

“Yes.” Wylan swallowed nervously. He wondered what this had to do with the whole situation. Maybe the king would pity him? Would that be a good thing? Not really. He wanted to be taken seriously, not pitied.

“What an idiot,” king Nikolai said, shaking his head.

Wylan felt himself look around the room, shrinking a little. He imagined his father to show up out of nowhere, drag him back home. King Nikolai would be laughing in the background, shaking his head in the same fashion as he was doing now.

“Jan van Eck didn’t see you as a worthy heir,” king Nikolai drawled. “But I guess some men’s trash is another man’s treasure.” The king suddenly sat upright, his entire demeanour changing.

He wondered if the king had a soulmate, and if so, what did his words say? King Nikolai was too old for him, but Wylan had to admit the man was handsome. Curly golden hair, a tan complexion, tall, well-built, an easy smile and intense eyes. But he was also the king, which made finding a soulmate much harder.

“Nina told me you have a good memory, remembering all the ships that were docked the night you left Ketterdam. You remember stories behind different types of ships. You speak three languages. Your Ravkan sounds as if you have lived here for years, not months. On the very first day, you spend an hour discussing Shu and Ravkan poetry with Tolya. The palace never has looked this clean before, you clearly have chemistry knowledge.” King Nikolai looked at him with intense eyes. “Your father clearly had no idea about your intelligence, or he wouldn’t have been so foolish to get rid of you. But I’m not that foolish. I have a country that is still recovering, the Khergud Soldiers are getting bolder by the day, and we don’t have a weapon... yet.”

It took a while for Wylan to get the hint. “You want me to develop weapons,” he asked in disbelief. He had no idea who precisely these Khergud Soldiers were, but he figured that it was an enemy of Ravka.

“Yes. The money is tempting, but having a weapon against the Khergud is priceless,” king Nikolai had returned to his careless demeanour.

“I don’t want to make weapons,” Wylan said, his hands shaking. If he had wanted to make weapons, he could have done it back in Ketterdam. In the Barrels, a weapon expert was worth a lot. At least enough for a roof above his head and safety.

“But you’re fine with scrubbing floors? You can do so much more than you’re doing right now, you can make the difference.” The king’s voice had taken on a sharp edge. “I could keep you safe here. The Kerch are our allies, and it would strengthen our bond to hand you in. But I have a kingdom to look after, and it’s weapons I need.”

The promises were alluring. It meant safety. It meant that he had a roof above his head, three meals a day and he didn’t have to look over his shoulder to make sure he’s safe. He could get an opportunity to show that he’s a better person than his father believed he was. It did mean he had to make weapons, weapons that eventually could be used against Kerch. But what love did he have for Kerch? He grew up there, but he had no love for the country, no love for Ketterdam.

“I have no experience making weapons,” Wylan confessed.

King Nikolai’s eyes lit up. “The good thing is that you’ll be working together with one of our fabrikators. Fahey has been driving everyone insane, and we haven’t been able to spare anyone to help him with his project. But now you’re here.”

Fahey sounded like a nightmare. But Wylan still ended up accepting king Nikolai’s offer. He was escorted by the Shu soldier. Embarrassed, he asked her what exactly the Khergud were.

~*~

The Grisha workshop was surprisingly quiet for how many people there were. Only a few of the fabrikators looked up when he entered and all but one lost interest in him. A boy his age was watching him. He was handsome, with dark brown skin, short black hair and eyes that reminded Wylan of a thunderstorm. Wylan would bet he’s Zemeni. The boy looked way too pleased to see Wylan. He figured that this was Fahey.

“Hi,” Wylan said reluctantly, walking up to the fabrikator with an outstretched hand. “I’m Wylan, king Nikolai—”

“You’ll be my partner in crime,” Fahey said, grinning broadly. “Ever wielded a weapon?”

“No?” Wylan said, not counting the dagger he once had waved around. “I was tasked to create a weapon, not wield one.”

“How can you make a weapon when you never have used one?” Fahey got up, vibrating with energy. He was tall and gangly looking. Wylan was a little jealous, wishing he would start growing already.

“That’s your job, you’re Fahey, right?” Wylan asked, feeling a little timid. The guy really was tall, and there was an almost manic glint in his eyes.

“Jesper Fahey yes,” Fahey—Jesper said. “And I feel like we’ll get along just fine.”

Wylan wondered if he still could go back to scrubbing floors.

~*~

“King Nikolai already told me you started on this project. What do you have as of now?” Wylan asked as he tried to keep up with Jesper. The boy had ridiculously long legs, unfairly so.

“Technically, it wasn’t my idea,” Jesper said, looking over his shoulder. He seemed to be amused by Wylan’s struggle to keep up. “I will give all the credits to David. He mentioned that most Grisha, even the fabrikators, could fight pretty well against the Khergud, or at least one. But normal men can do little. David figured that if we could arm them with a weapon that could harm those super-soldiers, they wouldn’t be as much of a threat.”

Wylan had heard about David. He was a brilliant fabrikator, but socially withdrawn and sometimes too bright for his own good. He was there during the civil war, had been an essential part of ending it.

“Had he suggested what kind of weapon?” Wylan asked. “I recall that they can fly.”

Jesper whipped out one of his pearl-handled revolvers, waving it around carelessly. “We shoot at them.”

“You want to make bullets? Do you realise how difficult that is?” Wylan managed to catch up with Jesper, explaining to the fabrikator why bullets were a nightmare. They were small, they had to be light enough, and the riffles likely had to be custom made to fire the bullets. Creating weapons like bombs were much easier since they didn’t have to be as small and still had the impact they desired. Making daggers and spears was even easier.

“Well, I have been told you’re brilliant with anything chemistry-related,” Jesper said. “You surely will be able to figure out how to do bullets.”

Wylan shook his head. “I still don’t get why you want to use bullets. Why not bombs?”

Jesper said nothing, just kept on walking. Wylan followed nervously, wondering if the fabrikator was looking for a spot to dump Wylan’s body. They ended up on a shooting range. Soldiers were firing at targets, most of them using long-range firing arms. He noticed that Jesper was looking at their progress, a frown tugged his eyebrows down.

Jesper walked over to his own shooting range, and Wylan followed nervously. The other men were already staring at them, curiosity written all over their face. Wylan hadn’t met any of these men, and he knew that the standing between Grisha and normal humans wasn’t the best. Jesper’s range was far away from the rest and looked much more advanced. There were several targets, and Wylan even saw mechanisms for moving targets. Many of the targets were much further back, making them hard to pinpoint.

“The reason for bullets is that you can hit something at long-range and it’s much more precise. You don’t have to risk hitting anyone else when they’re fighting those guys close-range,” Jesper explained, loading his revolver. “Though a grenade might be useful for bigger groups. It seems that your input is useful after all, despite having now weapon knowledge.”

Jesper grinned and ruffled Wylan’s hair. Wylan gives him a shove, trying to save his hair. It was sticking in every direction imaginable.

“Do you even know how to shoot,” Wylan asked, trying to smooth down his hair. He knew he was making it worse. “Fabrikators aren’t known for their battle prowess.”

“Then you never met my ma,” Jesper said, cocking his revolver and shot.

Wylan was in awe. Jesper hit all the targets—even the ones much further away—with what seemed to be deadly accuracy. He did it almost effortlessly as if his weapon was an extension of himself. He looked beautiful as if he was aglow.

“My ma taught me to shoot,” Jesper said as he put his revolver away. “She was a fabrikator like I am.”

“Was?” Wylan asked, following Jesper as he inspected the targets.

“She passed away, it’s just my dad and me now,” Jesper said nonchalantly as if her passing didn’t mean anything. But Wylan knew how to hide grief.

“What’s your father like?” Wylan asked. “He’s Ravkan?”

Jesper laughed loudly. “No, he’s Kaelsish.”

Wylan stared at Jesper in disbelief, waiting for him to say something like ‘I’m kidding’. It never came. Instead, Jesper finished inspecting the targets and turned around, returning to the Little Palace. Wylan followed.

“But aren’t the Kaelish known for killing Grisha and drinking their blood?” Wylan asked.

Jesper was looking at him with a horrified expression. “They do what?”

“Haven’t you paid attention to your classes?” Wylan asked, gesturing wildly. “The Kaelish think that Grisha blood can cure all illnesses.”

The horrified expression made room for suspicion. “So, you’re here to kill a Grisha and use their blood to make yourself immortal?”

“I’m not—”

_Kaelish_ , Wylan wanted to say, but he clamped his mouth shut. It was a good thing that Jesper thought he was coming from the Wandering Isles. Less likely he would be connected to Kerch and his father.

“Is it that obvious that I’m not from around here?” Wylan asked. He felt like his Ravkan was pretty good, but seeing as Jesper noticed it in no time, it wasn’t as good as he had expected.

“Your accent is slightly off,” Jesper said. “But hardly noticeable. How long have you been here?”

Accents he could work with. That was a matter of practice.

“I think about three months by now,” Wylan said, opening the door for Jesper. He was oddly proud of managing to stay ahead of Jesper and his long legs.

“That’s just unfair,” Jesper said, pouting. “Also, you never answered my question about the blood.”

A few of the Grisha they passed looked at them oddly.

“No, I’m not planning on killing you. I would be dead before I even get the chance.” Wylan knew that it was a bit of a lie. He had the feeling he might be able to kill the average fabrikator, the older of them having little combat experience. But even then, he hadn’t much hoped to survive the ordeal. He was neither a fighter nor a murderer.

“I could teach you how to shoot,” Jesper offered.

“You just accused me of sacrificing everyone here to become immortal, and you offer to teach me how to kill people?” Wylan asked. They were definitely drawing some stares, Grisha stopping to see what the commotion was about.

Wylan felt uncomfortable, having so many eyes watching him. They didn’t know who he was, and he wasn’t sure about Jesper’s reputation. King Nikolai had mentioned he was… fidgety. It seemed to be true that Jesper just couldn’t standstill. He was always on the move. But Wylan had met worse people.

“There is only one way to find out,” Jesper said, whipping out one of his revolvers. There was an excited look on his face, which gave Wylan a bad feeling.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Wylan said, gingerly taking the revolver. “What if I shoot someone else?”

Jesper winked, throwing an arm around Wylan’s shoulder. Wylan cradled the revolver close to his chest, wondering if he could accidentally shoot it. “Thankfully, you have the best marksman in Ravka helping you out.”

~*~

Wylan was a liar, and he was sure the others suspected. He had stopped using his table in the fabrikator workshop after a week, opting to work outside. He said that he couldn’t concentrate when other people were around. Also, being outside would help ‘emulate’ the real-life experience. That was the lie. He could perfectly well focus if Jesper wasn’t there. Despite that he swore he would only see Jesper in a professional light, he failed. Jesper was attractive. He sucked you in, and before you know it, your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met. Or it was just Wylan. It probably was Wylan who was weak for Jesper’s stormy grey eyes and devious smiles.

Working outside was a nightmare. The wind had knocked over his chemistry set multiple times. Due to the soft ground, it had survived most of the time. But twice in a week, it had blown up. Wylan was relieved he had been wearing protective gear. At least making explosions worked, he just had to stabilise them. Explosions aren’t what Jesper wanted, but they were close-enough related to bullets that it was easy to adjust the prototype. It had to explode on impact, whatever size. Jesper had explicitly said that they had to work with chemicals since standard weapons just had no effect on the Khergud.

His concoction made a popping sound when he added a drop of the final ingredient. This wasn’t something that could actually harm the Khergud, but he had to start somewhere. He never had made bombs before, and it would be foolish to make something that would immediately kill him.

He added another drop, the popping noise a little louder.

“Wylan!” someone yelled. Not being prepared for company, Wylan yelped and added way too much to his concoction. It exploded, the shards flying everywhere. It at least was just one beaker instead of the entire set.

Brushing off the shard, Wylan looked at the approaching person. It was Nina. She looked radiant, wearing a red kefta that looked brilliant on her.

“I can’t believe you’re in the Little Palace,” Nina said, pulling him up to hug him. Wylan felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“King Nikolai was… persuasive,” Wylan said, not wanting to talk badly about the king. “He figured that my chemistry background could come handy.”

“He blackmailed you,” Nina said. She brushed something out of his hair.

“Basically.”

Nina smiled. “Come, sit down,” she said, pulling him down. “I hadn’t expected you to be here. I heard Jesper talk about someone and it fitted your description, and I started to wonder if it was actually you.”

“Jesper talks about me?” Wylan asked, feeling his cheeks heat up. It was dumb to crush on the first guy that seemed to be somewhat interested in you. Nonetheless, the feelings were there. Maybe it’s just a part about him being unable to be himself for so long.

Nina’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. He just can’t seem to shut up about you. I think he’s just happy that someone is willing to work with him on this project.”

Wylan was hit with a wave of guilt. He had been avoiding Jesper while Jesper had been nothing but pleasant to him. Annoying at times, but he had been nice nonetheless. He easily could have looked down on Wylan and refuse to work together with him.

“I’m not sure if I’m up for the project,” Wylan said, looking sadly at his exploded beaker. “I’ve never made an explosion before.”

“And how long have you been practising making explosions?” Nina asked.

“A week,” Wylan mumbled.

“Exactly. Even if you’re brilliant, you need time to practice and learn,” Nina said, patting Wylan encouragingly on his back. “I would recommend talking to Leoni. She’s an alkemi, who specialise in poisons and blasting powders. She could help you along. She also has the most patience of any fabrikator out there.”

“Thank you,” Wylan said, meaning it.

“Don’t thank me yet, I need you for something.”

Wylan wasn’t surprised that Nina had alternative motives. Wylan still believed that she used to be associated with one of the gangs back in Kerch.

“Couples sales at the waffle place?” Wylan asked.

“You know me so well,” Nina said, getting up and offering Wylan her hand. “You want to come?”

“Isn’t Jesper a better fit?” Wylan took her hand and let himself being hauled up. He was, once again, reminded on the fact that Nina was taller than him. Maybe he could get lucky and get a growth-spurt.

“That boy could eat his body weight in food,” Nina said. “The waffle house will run out of waffles with the two of us.”

And Wylan would run out of his allowance to appease Nina’s appetite. But he had learnt long ago that money couldn’t buy you happiness, but it can buy waffles.

~*~

“You’re Leoni, right?” Wylan asked one of the fabrikators. He had asked Nina what Leoni looked like, and this woman fitted the picture. Dark brown skin with long black hair. She had a bright smile on her face, and she seemed to bounce out of her seat. She wasn’t present a lot in the workshop, so it was Wylan’s first time seeing her.

The girl—she was probably a little older than him—nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, you’re Wylan, right? Jesper never stops talking about you.”

Wylan’s heart skipped a beat before he reigned his feelings in. No emotions, just professionalism. Jesper seemed to be a touchy-feeling person anyway, doesn’t matter who it was.

“That’s me. I wondered if you could help me out? I’m well aware of how chemistry works but...” Wylan gestured with his hands, showing off an explosion. “I don’t know how to make explosions.”

“Explains why you’re here,” Leoni said chipperly. “Sure, I will help you. Jesper has been driving everyone crazy until you showed up. If you can make his vision come true, I’m willing to help.”

~*~

“Adrik looked like he was ready to kill you,” Jesper said over lunch, stealing food from Wylan’s plate. “Why are you even spending time with Leoni?”

Wylan batted Jesper’s hand away and continued to eat his own lunch. Jesper hadn’t even finished his own.

“She helped me with explosions and stuff. Like you said, I never used or made a weapon before,” Wylan explained, once again trying to ward off Jesper grubby hands.

“You aren’t trying to date her?” Jesper said.

Wylan was taken aback, and Jesper took the opportunity to steal his food. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Jesper asked, stuffing some more food in his mouth. “She’s a pretty girl.”

“I don’t care much about girls,” Wylan mumbled. He focussed on his food, figuring that this conversation has come to an end.

“And guys?” Jesper asked. It wasn’t the question Wylan expected. He ended up looking up from his food, looking for any level of insincerity. There was none.

Wylan nodded. 

“Cool,” Jesper said. Then he proceeded to steal more of Wylan’s food.

Surprisingly, Wylan felt really light. He had told Nina before that he thought his soulmate was male, but this somehow felt different. Maybe because Jesper was another guy. Perhaps because he explicitly said that he didn’t find girls interesting. Not that he had much time to ponder over it, since Jesper tried to steal his half-finished sandwich. They fed this guy way too little.

~*~

Their first prototype was… clunky at best. They had tried to make bullets, but whatever chemical they had created ate away the shell. They wanted to make it so that the two main components only mixed on impact, but Wylan didn’t have any high expectations.

“We still don’t have ruthenium, so I don’t think it’s worthwhile testing,” Wylan told Jesper as they made their way to the testing ground. Jesper didn’t even consider stopping by the look of it.

Ruthenium was the metal that made the Khregud so dangerous. Their bones were made out of it. They weren’t sure what the melting point was, but it was likely high. Wylan hadn’t been able to find much on the metal, which made it much harder to counter it. He figured that whatever concoction they had created wouldn’t do anything, but Jesper still insisted to test it. He wondered if Jesper just wanted to shoot at things after being locked up inside for days.

“We at least can see if making bullets works,” Jesper said chipperly.

This time, the shooting range was entirely empty. Wylan was relieved. Nobody would see them fail, and the only people who could get hurt were the two of them.

The likelihood that the bullets worked was close to zero. Wylan didn’t doubt Jesper’s skill with metal, but he doubted his skills with chemicals. He didn’t know what heat and fast movements did with the liquids. What if the bullet didn’t explode on impact, or worse, it would explode as Jesper shot them?

“Stop worrying, it will be fine,” Jesper said, unslinging his gun from his back. It wasn’t one of his own revolvers, instead it was one of the spare guns the Little Palace carried.

“What if it explodes in your face?” Wylan asked. That was his biggest worry. The last thing he wanted was accidentally killing Jesper, though he could be annoying at times. There was no other guy that made Wylan feel at him like Jesper did. Additionally, he doubted that the king would be happy with him if he accidentally killed one of his Grisha.

Jesper rolled his eyes. “You’re better at this then you think you’re,” Jesper said. “Also, would you grab that table for me?”

It was a metal, outdoor table. Wylan wasn’t sure what its purpose was, though based on its height, he figured it was to put additionally munition down. It was small enough to carry, even for Wylan. He dragged the table to were Jesper was setting up the shooting range. The target was surprisingly close by and a sheet of metal. He already was loading the gun with the several bullets they had made, they fit just right. Wylan had let Jesper figure out the measurements.

“Put the table in front of the target,” Jesper instructed, and Wylan did as he was told.

He didn’t see the picture until Jesper manipulated the metal until he could place the gun into a hold, the nuzzle aimed straight at the target. Then Jesper took a couple of steps back, and Wylan got it.

“You can pull the trigger from a distance,” Wylan exclaimed.

Jesper grinned at him. “See, you will eventually get it. Now, let’s step back and see what this thing can do.”

With a bang, the first shot was fired. The bullet slammed against the steel plate, the liquid splattering against it. The bullet itself fell to the ground. Some of the liquid that was inside of the bullet started to sizzle and eat away at the plate. Whatever Wylan had made at least ate through standard steel. 

“Too little firing power,” Jesper said, not giving Wylan the chance to remark anything about the bullet.

To his horror, Jesper picked up the gun and aimed at the target.

“It could still explode in your face!” Wylan shouted, nerves rolling in his stomach.

Jesper looked over his shoulder, a bright grin on his face. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Wylan watched Jesper pull the trigger. Despite that the distance and the blasting powder was the same, the bullet burrowed itself in the steel. The bullet didn’t explode, and none of the acids managed to mix.

“Well, it at least didn’t explode in your face,” Wylan said. It’s a pretty face, he mentally added but didn’t say out loud. “But I think we have to go back to the drawing board. I think when it comes to acid, it should be triggered by the impact. Or the liquids mix upon shooting, but there is something that will delay the explosion. I might have to—”

Jesper put a hand on Wylan’s shoulder, effectively shutting him up. “We both have things to work on,” he said, a sad look on his face. “Which means we have to go back to the workshop.”

“But your bullets worked,” Wylan protested as Jesper steered him away from the shooting range. He wondered if they should clean up, but decided to not bring that up.

Jesper snorted. “Cute, just keep on thinking that. You forget that I’m a fabrikator.”

Wylan wondered what that meant, but Jesper didn’t give him a chance. “But, before we’re going to spend another week indoors, let’s grab some food. I heard you’re the go-to man for two-in-one deals.”

“Nina has bled me dry of money, I have nothing left,” Wylan said, not evening joking.

“The good thing is that I will pay,” Jesper said, slinging an arm over Wylan’s shoulder.

Not knowing what to do when an attractive guy was maybe-flirting with him, Wylan ended up blurting out the first thing that came up in his head. “You smell like blasting powder.”

Jesper just threw his head back and laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate that this is so late. I had written the entire story already, just had to edit it and yet, it has taken me over half a year to sit down and edit the remaining chapters (anxiety is such a wonderful thing). I feel like my writing style is all over the place and I sincerely apologise for it taking this long. For all seven people still following this, the story is finally ending. For the artists I worked with, I also sincerely apologise for being missing in action. The remaining chapters will all be posted at the same time before anxiety will manage to grab me once again.
> 
> Art in this chapter is done by the lovely: [omigirisoulmates](https://omigirisoulmates.tumblr.com/)

Wylan had realised his foolish behaviour and moved back inside. Every time Jesper spoke to him, he feared that he would mention it. But Jesper hadn’t uttered a word about it. He did utter many other words.

Half of the time, Jesper was at his back, looking over his shoulder at whatever Wylan was doing. More often than not, this ended up in disaster. His work-bench had scorch-marks, acid-stains, and even a hole that David so kindly had fixed. Wylan hated to admit that Jesper tended to distract him.

“What do you want?” Wylan asked, poking out his tongue as he was messing with some wires.

King Nikolai had requested him to focus on explosives when Jesper didn’t have time for their group project. It turned out that Wylan had quite the knack for working with chemicals.

“Ever the gentleman,” Jesper said. He nearly folded himself in half to rest on the top of Wylan’s head with his own. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to go to the shooting range with me.”

His latest attempt at making acid had been shoved to the side. He hadn’t gotten any further than before. Most of his acids managed to eat through normal steel, but it was neither strong enough to get through ruthenium or stable enough to use in bullets or bombs.

“I haven’t gotten any further,” Wylan admitted in defeat.

“But I have,” Jesper said cheerfully. “Now, let’s go; I need someone to take notes.”

Wylan felt his heart plunge into his stomach. He couldn’t take notes. He neither could read nor write, no matter what language.

“I can’t—” Wylan’s protests fell to deaf ears as Jesper grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the workshop. He had hoped that his desperate plea had reached David’s ears and that the Fabrikator would at least stop his experiment from exploding. At least he wouldn’t be there to witness it.

Jesper now had taken his hand and tugged him along. It wasn’t a romantic hand-hold, with Wylan’s fingers being squeezed tightly together, but that didn’t stop his heart from beating wildly. He knew that he was a goner despite his promises that he wouldn’t fall for his co-workers.

“Jesper, my Ravkan is rubbish,” Wylan lied.

Jesper slowed down and looked over his shoulder, not looking convinced at all. “But you can speak it almost perfectly.”

“But that doesn’t mean I can read or write it,” Wylan said, this time not even lying.

“Fine, but you’re still coming with me,” Jesper said.

Wylan, realising that it could be much worse, mentally agreed and let himself being pulled along. His palms started to sweat and feel icky.

The range wasn’t empty, but most of the men training didn’t pay them any attention. A few did give Wylan pitying looks, which felt a little out of place. He had never quite understood the dislike for the Grisha. They were, at their core, still human. He couldn’t believe that Jesper would be much different if he hadn’t been born Grisha.

Jesper’s lane had the same set-up as before. Multiple targets, multiple sizes and distances. However, this time there were no metal plates, nor had Jesper asked for any dose of acid for the custom made bullets.

“What do you want to test?” Wylan asked, watching Jesper unslinging the gun from his back. It wasn’t one of his revolvers, nor the dated thing he had previously used.

“Bullets,” Jesper said, loading the gun. “Because we’re using acid instead of powder, the bullets are heavier. However, the last thing we want is having to use other guns that have enough power. So I have been trying to make the bullets lighter.”

Jesper steadied himself, cocked the gun and fired. In a blink of an eye, all five bullets hit their target dead-centre. Wylan stared, amazed. Jesper was truly a great shot. Rifle guns—the ones the soldiers used—traded accuracy for distance. Hence why you had to aim at the torso and not the head. Jesper used a low-accuracy weapon and made it accurate. He imagined giving Jesper a sniping rifle and put him on the rooftops of Ketterdam. He would be legendary.

“Well, I don’t have to write down that these were spot on.” Wylan peered into the distance.

“Those were the normal bullets; I need a frame of reference. Could you note down where they hit?” Jesper was already reloading his gun, though not aiming it yet. The bullets looked the same as the previous ones.

“At least,” Jesper grinned. “I assume that numbers work the same here as in the Wandering Isles.”

While strangling Jesper sounded great, Wylan just took out his drawing kit and walked over to the different targets. He had been right in his assumption that Jesper was a good shot. The first couple of them weren’t even off, and the others were off with just millimetres. Even at the one-hundred-meter mark the aim was barely off. Wylan wouldn’t have noticed it by just looking at it. It would have killed an enemy.

Wylan handed Jesper the notes, which in turn only glanced at them before taking a double-take. “How did you manage to get these numbers this accurate?”

“Measuring.” Wylan tried to mimic Jesper’s one-eyebrow-raised look.

“Fine,” Jesper muttered.

Jesper started to note some things down. Wylan stood on his tip-toes to see Jesper note down some adjustments. “I think that either the wind or the gun itself threw you off. You usually use your revolvers, so this is a big difference, and the wind is irregular today.”

He had mostly noticed that at times, the wind messed up his hair and a strand would tickle his nose. No matter how often he tucked it behind his ear, it came free. While his hair was always unruly, it rarely was this unruly. He figured that even wind could throw a bullet off course, even if it wasn’t visible to the naked eye.

“I thought you were a chemist, not a physicist,” Jesper said, tucking the calculations in his pocket.

“I know chemistry; that doesn’t make me a chemist.” As he answered, he knew that he had made a mistake. Jesper’s smile turned into a grin, his eyes holding a light of mischief.

“So, you know chemistry.” Jesper threw his free arm around Wylan’s shoulder. “Would you say that we have chemistry?”

“No, and start testing your bullets. I have other work to do.” He forcefully shoved Jesper and ducked away. His cheeks were burning. It was unfair that Jesper could flirt so easily.

Childlisly, every movement Jesper made did was ridiculously slow. When he finally pulled the trigger, he only shot one bullet towards the closest target. It was quite off.

“Go check if for me, will you?” Jesper asked, frowning at his gun as if it had done him a disservice.

Wylan did what Jesper asked. The bullet was off by an inch or so from the original target. It had left a watery substance behind. Touching and smelling the liquid, Wylan wondered if it was water. He wasn’t going to do anything foolish and taste it.

“Of by a 28.6 millimetre,” Wylan reported. “Also, did you put water in the bullets?”

Jesper groaned before addressing Wylan’s question. “Yes. Like I said, we aren’t working with blasting powders but with acid. It’s important that the bullets can carry liquid. While water isn’t a perfect substitute, it works well enough for testing.”

Wylan had to admit that at first, he hadn’t expected much from Jesper. He was a Fabrikator that couldn’t sit still and preferred to play cards or shoot at things. But he clearly was well-educated about his craft and was passionate about this project. King Nikolai had said that passionate Fabrikators were the best Fabrikators.

They did this a couple more times before Jesper called it quits. Despite that Jesper was off at worst with half-an-inch, it still wasn’t enough. Wylan pointed out that he still would kill people this way.

“I would, but the rest wouldn’t. Do you think you would hit those targets?” Jesper asked, frustrated.

“I probably will throw myself on the ground due to recoil before I hit any target,” Wylan confessed.

Jesper nodded in agreement. “The offer still stands. I could teach you how to shoot.” Jesper was smiling smugly as if he knew Wylan wanted to refuse.

However, Wylan was stubborn, so he agreed. “Sure, might as well learn how to defend myself.”

Mentally, he added ‘from my father’. Even if he had the guts to shoot his father, he likely would miss, which was even worse.

Jesper went from surprised to exited. “I knew you would come around.” Jesper slapped Wylan on the back. “I will make sure that the range is empty, gives us more time to develop the ‘chemistry’ between us.”

While Wylan wanted to yell at Jesper for that comment, he also knew Jesper was being kind. The last thing he wanted was having people watch him learning how to shoot. He probably already looked like a boy to them, and him holding a gun wouldn’t help that image.

“Thanks.” Wylan eventually said. It was worth it, seeing that Jesper almost dropped his gun and tripped over air. All limbs, no grace.

Jesper managed to turn his stumble in a bow, an excited grin on his face. “It’s my pleasure. Now, let’s see if you have blown up the workshop.”

~*~

Wylan was a terrible shot. Jesper was obviously trying his best to teach him but to no avail. The first couple of times, the recoil had nearly thrown him to the ground. Jesper, thankfully, always had a steady hand on his back to keep him upright. It did nothing to steady his heartbeat, though. Wylan was perfectly aware that basically anyone could be his soulmate. Jesper was a possibility, but so were thousands of other men. Not to mention that Jesper didn’t treat him all that different than he treated other people. Nothing indicated that Wylan was any different from the rest.

When Wylan accidentally hit a target, Jesper seemed to be happier than Wylan did.

“I meant to hit the one on the right,” Wylan said, reloading the rifle. The thing felt heavy, the trigger uncomfortable underneath his finger. Maybe he should try a gun or revolver, something that was smaller. It wasn’t like he needed a long-range weapon. A ten feet range would be plenty.

Jesper grimaced slightly. “Okay, yeah, your aim is a little off.”

Not just a little, but he didn’t get the opportunity. One of Nikolai’s men came jogging up to them. It was a messenger, by the looks of it.

“You’re Wylan, right?” The messenger stared intensely at Wylan’s hair.

Wylan nodded. The messenger handed him a note and left. He likely had another message to deliver, or he wanted to stay as far away as possible from the Little Palace. He knew that some people were still uncomfortable around Grisha, thinking they were much more than just humans with magical powers.

He unfolded the note and stared, not picking up any of the words. The handwriting was messy, and the letters seemed to jump across the paper.

“Could you read it?” Wylan handed a curious-looking Jesper the paper. “King Nikolai’s chicken scrawl doesn’t make Ravkan easier to read.”

Jesper laughed. He cleared his throat and read the note out loud.

“Wylan, I heard the news that your father will be visiting Os Alta. While I doubt the delegation will be visiting the Little Palace, I at least wanted to give you a heads-up. I also heard that Fahey is teaching you how to shoot. While I full-heartedly agree that it’s useful to learn fighting skills, please refrain from killing your father on Ravkan soil.” Jesper looked mildly amused. “ Also, it’s signed off with the king’s signature and all.”

Wylan wasn’t sure what to feel. He felt sick at the mention of his father in Os Alta. It has been months since they had been this close to one another. They were still miles apart, but Wylan still felt nervous about the prospect. He felt also embarrassed that the king had figured out the motivate he had to learn how to shoot. Killing his father wasn’t necessarily his plan, but he wanted to have the option if he ever was face-to-face with his father.

“Thank you,” Wylan whispered, taking the note from Jesper. “I think I’m done for today, sorry.” His smile was feeble, and he couldn’t unsee the concern in Jesper’s face.

“That’s fine. Let me walk you back after I finish cleaning.”

Wylan felt guilty for not helping out, but Jesper never once demanded he did.

“So,” Jesper started, carrying all the training equipment back to the Little Palace. “You and your father aren’t on good terms, I assume?”

“Why would you think that?” Wylan asked, trying to bring a little chipper back in his voice. His brain was still mulling over the fact that his father was coming to Ravka.

“King Nikolai thinking you would happily shoot your father?” Jesper’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Wylan shook his head. “Just as self-defence. I’m not planning to hunt him down; I would prefer to never see him again.”

“What did your old man do to get you willing to shoot him?” Jesper asked. “Forcing you to attend parties?”

Wylan almost face-planted into the door. That was not the reaction he expected.

“Why parties?” Wylan asked.

Jesper smile sheepish, and Wylan knew he was weak. Weak for any expression Jesper could make. “I hoped that it would be a childish thing.”

“If I was just mad, I wouldn’t have crossed the ocean to run away.” He knew that he shouldn’t make light of the situation, but he couldn’t help but build the suspense. “He tried to get me killed.”

“He did what—fuck,” Jesper had slammed his head against the doorpost. Wylan didn’t have to duck, but there were plenty who had to. He wondered if they were ever going to fix that.

“You aren’t kidding me, right?” Jesper asked while rubbing his bruised forehead.

“No, he actually did that.”

He wishes he had been lying. That he was creating a story to being pitied. But he didn’t want someone’s pity. He wanted someone—Jesper in this case—teach him how to avoid this from happening another time. His whole life, he felt like people pitied him. Because he couldn’t read because he was shy, because his mother passed away.

“Saints, he definitely won’t get the father of the year award,” Jesper said, whistling. “Why would he do that?”

When they had started this conversation, Wylan hadn’t expected to tell Jesper much. Admittedly, he hadn’t expected Jesper to actually care. He knew that he had to be really careful with what he said. He didn’t want to tell Jesper about his illiteracy. He didn’t want to be pitied.

“I wasn’t the son he wanted.” Wylan kept it vague on purpose, hoping that Jesper didn’t ask more. Jesper looked at him quizically.

“He wasn’t happy that his only child refuses to produce an heir,” Wylan said.

It wasn’t even that farfetched. If there hadn’t been a new child, a new heir, his father likely would have arranged a marriage with a wealthy family. He would produce an heir, and his father would brainwash that child to take over the company. While his father wasn’t the youngest, he would live long enough for a future heir to grow up. Wylan would have refused the marriage proposal. Even if he didn’t care about a soulmate, he still refused to marry a woman.

They finally arrived at the storage room. Jesper put away the stuff, hanging the rifle in the rack. Wylan wasn’t even sure if they were allowed in here. There were old, dusty books, rare materials and weapons that looked expensive.

Jesper remained quiet for a while as Wylan headed for his room. He was surprised that Jesper actually was willing to bring him to his room. It was almost romantic.

“Your father is a dick,” Jesper said.

Wylan let out a giggle, shaking his head. He hadn’t expected that.

“I’m serious. My father and I argue at times, but he never complained that I like kissing boys and girls.” Jesper said. He continued talking, but Wylan had clocked off when he heard Jesper say that he liked kissing boys. He wasn’t necessarily surprised since Jesper seemed the type to like both genders, but you could never know for sure.

Wylan jumped when he heard Jesper laughing. He looked at Jesper, who was grinning at him. “What?” he asked.

“You’re smiling again.” Jesper pointed out. “You have been in a poor mood all day, even before the news. I was worried that I would have to get Nina to cheer you up.”

Wylan tried to will his smile away, but he had been unable to do so.

“Why Nina, though?” He wondered out loud.

“She is great at cheering people up.”

He had to agree. Nina always seemed to improve his mood. But so did Jesper. Actually, he didn’t have many down days since he had left Kerch. It felt like he was given a fresh start. First by Nina and then by king Nikolai.

“Yeah, she is.” Wylan agreed. “Thank you.”

Jesper looked to be caught off guard by Wylan’s gratitude. He wondered if this might be one of the first genuine ‘thank yous’ Jesper has gotten. Jesper wasn’t particularly popular among the Grisha, having a lot of nervous energy that most Fabrikators seemed to lack. From the time he had been here, he hadn’t seen many other Fabrikators talk to Jesper while they occasionally talked to others in the workshop. Maybe, and more likely, Wylan was just reflecting his own insecurities on Jesper. For his whole life, he wondered if he ever made a difference in a good way.

“You’re welcome,” Jesper said, ushering Wylan into his room. “Now, go brood, think about a plan to avoid your father. I will come back in a couple of hours to take you out for an early dinner. I have learnt from the best that food usually does the trick for a bad mood.”

“I don’t _brood_!” Wylan exclaimed, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Chickens brood.”

Jesper laughed, shaking his head. He was casually leaning against the doorframe, a warm look in his eyes. “But dinner is a go?”

“Dinner is a go.”

~*~

Talking about poisons and acids with David felt surreal. Wylan had heard his name before and knew what he had managed to achieve within the subject of material manipulation. He did things that most Fabrikators could only dream of. For such a legendary figure, he was rather unremarkable. Obviously, a genius, but Wylan wouldn’t have chosen him if he had to say who was the legendary David Kostyk.

David had just explained that it was unlikely that any acid would burn through the ruthenium they had gotten. Several Fabrikators had tried, they even used the big gun that was aqua regia, but it hadn’t worked. Wylan already had considered using that since it worked for dissolving several elements in the noble group. This included gold and platinum—the latter, which also share a more specific group with ruthenium. But David had said it didn’t work. David was about to explain alternative theories when Jesper barged into the Grisha workshop.

Wylan had noticed that Jesper was missing, but he figured that he just had taken a day off. Jesper could get pretty restless, often heading into the city or go to the shooting range just to do something.

Jesper looked flustered. He was dressed, didn’t look like he had just woken up. But there was still a wild, panicked look in his eyes. Jesper first looked at where Wylan usually was seated, then his gaze scanned the room until his gaze met Wylan’s.

All Wylan managed to say was ‘Jesper’ before Jesper took him by the arm and dragged him out of the workshop. Before they left the room, Jesper shouted ‘hide’. Looking over his shoulder, Wylan saw everyone scramble and put away their projects at rapid speed.

As they left the space, Wylan wondered where they were going until Jesper shoved him in a linen closet and joined him, closing the door behind them. It, thankfully, was a rather spacious closet, and there was a source of light, but Wylan rather would not have been here.

“Jesper, what are you doing?” Wylan asked, glaring at Jesper while crossing his arms.

“I panicked,” Jesper said. His entire body was restless, moving his hands from his hair to his revolvers to the sleeve of his kefta. “I was heading towards the workshop when I ran into king Nikolai, and there was a guy that looked a lot like you, so I knew I had to get you out of the workshop.”

Wylan felt his entire body tense up. His father was here, in the Little Palace. King Nikolai had said it was unlikely that they would visit the Little Palace, but there was still the possibility.

“Are you sure?” Wylan asked. Maybe it had been a mistake, and Jesper just had this knee-jerk reaction.

“Well, King Nikolai was eyeing me with alarm, and like I said, there was a guy that looked like you. A blonder, older, sour-faced you with a receding hair-line.” Jesper fidgetted, glancing at the door. “I thought you came from the Wandering Isles.”

The hurt was obviously there. Wylan tried to make himself comfortable, eventually deciding to sit down on the floor. While the closet was big enough, there wasn’t really a spot he comfortably could lean against. So sitting down it was. Jesper remained upright, but he wasn’t looking at Wylan, so it didn’t matter much.

“I actually never confirmed that I’m from the Wandering Isles; you made that conclusion,” Wylan explained.

“But why didn’t you correct me?” The hurt was still there, and Wylan wanted to go back in time to tell Jesper the truth.

“The less you knew, the better,” Wylan took a shaking breath, hyping himself up. Jesper had been nothing but kind to him. “I told you my surname is Hendriks, but that actually is untrue. That was my mother’s surname. Van Eck is actually my surname, my father’s. He’s an influential merchant in Ketterdam. The moment he knows I’m here, he will do everything to get me out of here and back home.”

Jesper finally decided to sit down, though he wasn’t quite looking at Wylan yet. Since Wylan was hugging his knees, Jesper used the free space to sprawl out his long legs.

“You expected me to sell you out?” Jesper asked.

Wylan shook his head. “No, but one rumour is enough to get my father to try and find me. He likely expected me to flee to Fjerda, so that’s where he will be looking.”

Jesper shook his head in disbelief, but he at least didn’t look too sad anymore. “I can’t believe you’re a merchling. I bet you actually were forced to go to fancy parties. You don’t happen to play the piano too?”

“The flute, actually,” Wylan said without thinking much about it.

“Explains why you can’t use a weapon.” Jesper pointed out. “I don’t think they teach rich kids combat.”

“It would be unseemly,” Wylan tried to sound snobbery but failed miserably.

“Yet you make weapons.”Jesper nudged his foot. “That seems quite unseemly.”

“I think about kissing guys; I think my reputation would be in shambles anyway.”

Jesper laughed. “You’re such a wild child.” The smile was there, but Wylan noticed that it faltered slowly. “But why your father is so against it finally makes sense. There will be no heir—assuming you’re an only child.”

“He remarried,” Wylan said wryly. “He soon will have a new son. Since he no longer needed me to take over the family business, he decided to get rid of me.”

“That’s harsh. He could’ve just disowned you.”

“And let me spoil his reputation?” Wylan shook his head. “His reputation is everything.”

He waited for Jesper to poke a hole in his excuse. If his father really wanted to have an heir, he would have forced Wylan to marry a woman and get a child. He probably even would’ve allowed Wylan to have a side-piece to keep him happy. It would have been beneficial since he could spread his influence to another family. But if he would’ve married off Wylan and his wife would have found out of his illiteracy, the van Eck family name would be shamed. Wylan would never properly run the business, and women weren’t supposed to run the business. He and his wife would have nothing.

“Then he isn’t a good father,” Jesper said finally.

After that, the conversation died down. Wylan wished for Jesper to talk, if only to get his mind off his father.

When Jesper deemed it appropriate to pick up the conversation again, Wylan was surprised by the change in topic. He had figured that Jesper wanted to know what his life had been. After all, Jesper tended to talk a lot about home, about his father and his mother.

“Your soulmate is Fjerdan?” Jesper asked.

Wylan ended up answering before even thinking. “No, why would he be?”

“Well, you said that your father expected you to go to Fjerda, so I expected you to go out and find your soulmate,” Jesper explained.

The reasoning made perfect sense. Wylan knew that he couldn’t change his previous answer, and saying that his soulmate was from Kerch also made no sense. Why would he leave the country if his partner for life would be there? He could still tell Jesper that his soulmate was Shu, but he felt bad about lying even more. He had told Jesper so many half-baked truths that he wondered if he ever was honest with him.

“He’s Ravkan,” Wylan said, hugging his knees even closer to his chest. He felt so young at times like these. Why did it make him feel so uncomfortable talking about soulmates? Most people didn’t even find their soulmate until they were well into adulthood.

“Then why doesn’t your father expects you to be here?”

“I don’t expect to ever find my soulmate, and I don’t want to talk about it.” Wylan hoped that Jesper respected his wishes. He already had shared more with Jesper than he had done with most people. But that didn’t mean that he was going to put all his cards on the table.

Jesper reached out, causing Wylan’s heart to leap in his throat. Thankfully, he just squeezed Wylan’s knee.

Much later, the doors were opened by a woman Wylan immediately recognised. While they never had met before, it was not hard to recognise Genya Safin. Firey hair, pale skin, the eye-patch and the many scars. She was grinning at them, her eyebrow raised.

“You boys have bedrooms you can spend your time in,” she said teasingly, reaching for some cleaning supplies. “Though I guess this is more thrilling.”

While Jesper seemed to remain pretty chill, Wylan felt himself grow flustered. He hadn’t even imagined what it would look like to an outsider.

“Are the merchants gone?” Jesper asked, getting up and stretching his limbs.

Genya nodded. “Nikolai was far from thrilled that they wanted to see the Little Palace, but he prefers to keep close ties to Kerch. But the tour didn’t last too long. David said they visited the workshop, but nothing was interesting to see thanks to Jesper’s warning.”

Wylan had completely forgotten about the ‘hide’ Jesper had shouted. “Hide? Seriously?”

Jesper shrugged. “Listen, we’re creating weapons. The king doesn’t want others to know what we’re doing, so we use the codeword ‘hide’ if someone visits the palace. It’s nothing fancy and really obvious. If someone shouts something like ‘chicken’ or ‘code red’, half of the people won’t realise what’s going on.”

It would have been ridiculous if he hadn’t experienced it first hand. Wylan had accidentally set his workplace on fire, and not even half of the people looked up. Only when the word ‘fire’ was shouted, the others started to panic.

“Boys, time to get out of the closet and get back to work. David was distraught that Wylan suddenly was pulled away. Nobody has been bothering to listen to him about his experiments.” Genya said, obviously teasing them.

Jesper offered him a hand and easily pulled him up. There was no awkward stumble, no hands-on Jesper’s chest. Wylan wondered if all these scenarios, the women let themselves fall against the guy.

“Well, that’s because the rest isn’t in charge to find something to destroy ruthenium,” Wylan grumbled. He honestly was happy that David was doing some research, though he made the chances of finding a solution rather bleak.

“And you’re doing a great job,” Genya said, steering both Wylan and Jesper towards the workshop. “But making out in closets won’t help you. Unless you’re trying to use the darkness to see if that has any effect on the metal, but that won’t require a two-man team.”

Jesper looked over his shoulder. “That’s where you got it wrong, miss Genya. Wylan needs emotional support.”

“I do not,” Wylan protested, punching Jesper softly against the shoulder.

Genya laughed and shook her head. She didn’t leave them until they were back in the workshop, where David immediately beckoned Wylan over. He was relieved that David was still willing to continue the conversation and didn’t found another pet project to occupy himself for the next week or so.

“So, we haven’t been able to find something that works,” David started. “Though we’re still trying. But we’re also considering to create such heat that the metal will melt. We haven’t found out the melting point, but we have planned something with the Inferni. Also...”

Wylan was listening intently to David, mentally taking note of everything David said. While melting seemed to be a good idea, he wondered if the temperature wasn’t too high.

“Hey David,” Wylan said, feeling bad to interrupt him. “I might be wrong, but don’t have all platinum metals a really high boiling point? I remember that platinum had a melting point of something like 2000 Kelvin.”

David looked at him unblinkingly. “I had forgotten about that. We could still try. I know that the noble metals have a vast arrange of melting points.”

Wylan regretted his question as David spent the next hour-or-so talking about the boiling points of different elements.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, which I should have mentioned in the previous chapter, but the chemistry used in this story is 'correct', but I am not a chemist. I just used a lot of googling and hoping that google isn't lying to me.
> 
> Artist whose beautiful work is displayed in this chapter:
> 
> [awtetsuya27](https://awtetsuya27.tumblr.com/)

Wylan has reached the point that he started to use common household items to damage the ruthenium. Vinegar, citric acids, hydrochloric acids and bleach. While vinegar had been his best friend in the past, the metal didn’t even budge.

Putting the stopper back on the bottle with vinegar, Wylan unscrews the one with citric acids. Due to the risk of working with acids, Wylan had set up a table outside and worked with gloves. If he spilt anything, it was just him, the table, and the grassy field. He used a dropper to let a couple of drops of citric acids fall on the metal. It was a clunky sheet, having seen better days. The Inferni David had previously mentioned had tried their best to melt it. They had managed, but having the firepower of five well-trained Inferni wasn’t viable. The king wanted a way to kill the Khergud without Grisha’s help.

When the citric acids did nothing but lying on the sheet of metal, Wylan washed it away with distilled water and grabbed for the next bottle. He got hold of the bleach. It technically was meant for hair-dying, at least according to Nikolai, who had ‘borrowed’ it from someone. But bleach was bleach. Going through the same cleaning process for his dropper, Wylan let a couple of drops of bleach fall on the metal.

The metal started to hiss and bubble. A horrid stench hit his nose. It took Wylan a few seconds to realise what was going on. The ruthenium reacted to the bleach! They could defeat those super-soldiers by throwing hair bleach at them. He tried a few more drops, watching the acids eat away at the metal.

Wylan left everything behind and bolted to the workshop. He knew that Jesper was in, and he just had to show him. While Jesper has been making progress, Wylan has been floundering around, trying to find a way to destroy the metal.

Bursting into the workshop, a few Fabrikators looked up. Their gazes, however, didn’t linger for much longer than seconds. Wylan marched over to where Jesper was stationed and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Not now,” Jesper mumbled, his fingers prodding at the metal he was using. “I’m busy.”

“Jesper,” Wylan tried again.

Jesper looked up, clearly annoyed. “Not right now, Wylan. I’m busy.”

He simply could have walked off, letting the rejection sting. But he had spent enough of his life being considered unimportant.

“No, it’s my turn to drag you away,” Wylan said, grabbing Jesper’s arm and pull.

Jesper almost tumbled out of his char, clumsily getting up on two feet.

“Wylan, what are you—”

Wylan interrupted him. “You’re coming with me. It only takes ten minutes, unlike your impromptu trips.”

Jesper grumbled as Wylan dragged him along for once. It must look absolutely ridiculous, with Wylan being a lot shorter than Jesper. They did get a few questioning looks from others, but far less than first. Wylan realised that this was almost common to the other Grisha, seeing one of them drag the other along.

As they arrived at Wylan’s workspace, he made a ‘ta-da’ like gesture. Jesper looked at him quizzically.

“I did it!” Wylan said giddily. “I found out what acid works!”

Wylan grinned proudly as Jesper took in the news, looking at the damaged sheet of ruthenium. Then his gaze snapped to Wylan, who saw a huge smile stretching across Jesper’s lips.

“Saints, you did it!” Jesper shouted as he hugged Wylan. Wylan was perfectly fine with the hug until Jesper pulled him up. He was aware of his somewhat short stature, and being picked up did nothing to make him feel better about it.

“I knew you would.” Jesper continued on as if he wasn’t holding Wylan in the air with way too much ease. “But still, wow, you actually did it! What obscure acid did the trick?”

“I could show you if you put me down,” Wylan said, stumbling over the words.

Jesper looked perfectly composed, while Wylan felt like he was starting to resemble a strawberry. Jesper’s whole ‘I’m way too comfortable with contact’ spiel was going to kill him one day.

“It’s bleach,” Wylan explained, showing Jesper the bottle before letting a couple of more drops fall on the metal. While he had the urge to pour the entire bottle on the sheet, he also knew that was the only sheet they had. But a couple more drops worked well enough.

Jesper picked up the bottle of bleach himself, glancing at the label that was slapped on it. “This is for bleaching your hair,” he said slowly.

“The king couldn’t find anything else,” Wylan said absentmindedly, wrinkling his nose at the stench.

“So we’re going to defeat one of the most dangerous enemies Grisha’s ever have faced by throwing cleaning supplies and hair-bleach at them.”

“That’s the gist of it,” Wylan said, cleaning his equipment. He was done for now, and he knew that he had to share the news with the king. David probably would be happy, too, figuring that he has been helping Wylan out.

“Saints, and here I thought it would be something exotic and hard to find—not household bleach.”

“Maybe that’s the strength of it,” Wylan pointed out. “You never expect it.”

~*~

Now they had their poison; it was a matter of creating the perfect vessel for it. This proved to be more difficult than expected. They were on the fifth prototype, and they just hadn’t been able to get it right. The current edition was able to penetrate the faux flesh but didn’t have the proper ‘splash’. At least, that is how Jesper described it. The main issue was that the Khergud’s skeleton was made of metal. This means that they first had to penetrate the skin before the bullet exploded. If it exploded too early, it would still hurt but wouldn’t do enough damage. If it hit the metal, but there wasn’t a proper explosion, the injury wouldn’t be severe enough.

A group of Grisha students—they hardly could be younger than Wylan—were having practice close by. Their teacher insisted that outdoor practice was important, although the Khergud has been spotted close to Os Alta. Most of the students were eyeing him and Jesper, curiosity obvious. Wylan figured that they just were bored.

“Maybe we have to do something else. Like, first expose their skeleton before shooting at them,” Wylan suggested as Jesper tried to modify his current batch of bullets. “Like, burn off their skin.”

Jesper wrinkled his nose. “That’s gross. Also, that would mean that you need more than one weapon, which only can lead to issues.”

“We at least should keep it as a plan b,” Wylan mumbled.

Jesper tried a couple of more times before prototype five, five-a and five-b were deemed a failure. With heavy hearts, they tidied up and started to head back to the Little Palace.

They passed the group when Jesper froze, stopping Wylan in his track by holding onto his elbow. He noticed that a few of the students also stopped in the middle of their training, bewildered. It didn’t take him long to notice that it was a specific group of Grisha. Most of them were older, and he noticed that it was exclusively Durast purple and grey and Squaller blue and silver. He didn’t get a lot of time to mule over it before Jesper pushed him down, grabbed one of his revolvers and shot behind them.

Getting back on his feet, Wylan looked at an entirely different scene. There was no calm, no cautious fear. The students were panicked, scrambling to get closer to their teacher. Wylan wanted to join them. He only had heard of Khergud but never had seen one. The man looked still quite human if it wasn’t for the metallic wings that kept him aloft.

Jesper’s bullet had hit the man in the thigh, which had torn through a fleshy part. A part of their ruthenium armour showed, but the Khergud soldier seemed to be unbothered by it.

Jesper shot the Khergud a couple of more times, but the injuries did little to actually harm him. Wylan wondered when the rest would show up. It would be foolish of the Shu Han to send only _one_ Khergud to a place swarmed by Grisha.

“Wylan, get down,” Jesper hissed. “You might provoke it.”

“It attacks Grisha, not humans.” Wylan hissed back, glaring at Jesper’s back.

He picked up the satchel he had dropped and groped through it, hoping that he actually had packed his explosion. He knew that Jesper wanted to focus on bullets, but having something to throw was also useful. Gunpowder didn’t work when it was wet, but something like a bomb or grenade would. Especially a grenade.

The Khergud had decided that the Grisha students were more interesting than Jesper and started to dive at them. The Squallers pushed them back but clearly seemed to struggle.

Finding his sodium hypochlorite bomb—bleach bomb, but it sounded fancier—Wylan waited for the Squallers to push the Khergud in his direction. After a particularly hard gush of wind, the Khergud came barreling towards him and Jesper. The soldier took this change in plan with stride, readying himself to take down Jesper. Jesper, who had his back to Wylan the whole time, emptied both revolvers to no avail.

“Protect yourself!” Wylan shouted as he hurled the bomb towards the Khergud. He realised his error too late. The bomb would only explode on impact, and it was likely the Khergud would be able to dodge it. Maybe he should consider working on grenades, which were much more reliable. Of course, if he survived today.

Whenever it was by dumb luck or with a little help—he knew that Jesper could steer his bullets so maybe also a bomb—the bomb hit the Khergeud in the shoulder. The explosion was much fiercer than expected, and Wylan was thrown to the ground. Though that might have been caused by Jesper, who had tackled Wylan to the ground the second the bomb had connected.

Drops of bleach and scraps of metal fell around Wylan, but he wasn’t sure if anything hit him. If something had, the adrenaline would’ve made sure that he wouldn’t feel it right now.

“I can’t believe you actually made a bomb,” Jesper said, laughing through something that sounded suspiciously like pain. “From scratch. That thing could have exploded in your face.”

Jesper was hovering above him, sheltering Wylan from the sky. He was sweaty, his eyes a storm while his face started to look a little ashen. Then, Wylan realised what was going on.

“You’re hurt!” Wylan exclaimed. Jesper was hurt because of him. Because that idiot decided that Wylan needed to be protected.

“Nothing that a healer can’t fix,” Jesper said, stilling grinning brightly. “I can’t believe you can’t even follow your own advice. You yell ‘protect yourself’ while you just keep staring at the bomb, dumbfounded.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re absolutely crazy.” Jesper’s laugh started to sound slightly manic. He probably was feeling the pain that was meant for Wylan. “Brilliant but crazy.”

Wylan patted Jesper’s arm before carefully crawling from underneath him. A few shards of metal dug in his hand, but he bit through the pain. They still didn’t know what happened to the Khergud, and he still had some bombs left. Letting the soldier escape would be foolish. They would tell everyone that the Ravkan’s had found a weapon against their ‘impenetrable’ armour.

The students seemed mostly fine, mostly spooked. The Khergud laid on the ground, one of their wings entirely ripped off. Their shoulder, face and arm were littered with shards and acid burns. Even if they were still alive, they likely couldn’t do much.

“Is it dead?” One of the students asked, clinging tightly to another one.

Wylan wasn’t sure who the student was addressing, but Wylan took it upon him to answer. “I don’t know.”

He beckoned over a couple of Healers and finally took his first look at Jesper. While he hadn’t taken the brunt force of the explosion, there were still shards stuck in his back. Acid had eaten away several layers of cloth and skin. Wylan felt sick, looking away as the Healers in training worked on fixing Jesper up.

A couple of the students were sent away by the teacher to fetch help. Help arrived in the form of several senior Grisha, and even king Nikolai showed up. Wylan wondered why he was in the Little Palace, but he might be checking in on the progress. They all were busy with something to make Ravka a better and safer place.

“That was one nasty explosion,” king Nikolai said, inspecting the Khergud. “But also a very efficient one.”

Wylan grimaced. “I nearly killed Jesper,” Wylan whispered, feeling guilty.

“Nah, he did that to himself. He likely could have stopped the shrapnel from hitting him if he hadn’t been too busy being a hero and saving you.” King Nikolai nudged the Khergud. They didn’t stir. Wylan figured that death was a better option.

Wylan refused to get his hope up. King Nikolai probably was teasing him, but there was also something of truth to it. There might have been some acid burns, but the metal altogether could have been avoided. But Wylan would have gotten hit right in the face if Jesper hadn’t reacted.

“Go check in on Fahey; we’ll take care of the Khergud,” King Nikolai said, squeezing Wylan’s shoulder. “Also, good job. I knew that you and Fahey would make a good duo.”

Wylan nodded and bowed briefly before hurrying over to where Jesper was being attended to by a couple of Healers. He was shirtless, and Wylan struggled not to stare.

“You’re doing okay?” Wylan asked, keeping his eyes focussed on Jesper’s face.

“I’m still alive,” Jesper said. “Will get a couple of cool scars. The only thing that sucks is that I will be stuck in bed for a while because I otherwise ‘overexert’ myself.”

“I imagine that they have to tie you to the bed to keep you there,” Wylan said.

Jesper grinned. “Well, you can keep me company and explain how you made a bomb from scratch.”

“I will,” Wylan said, already regretting it. He knew that he wouldn’t get a lot of work done when he spent time with Jesper.

Jesper kept grinning—though it was more a grimace now. Then he broke eye-contact. Wylan expected Jesper to look away altogether, but his eyes just travelled down a little. 

“You’re bleeding,” Jesper said in dismay. “Your hands.”

Wylan looked at his hands and felt his stomach jump, bile hitting the back of his throat. They were stained red, blood dripping down his fingers and stained the grass red. “I hadn’t realised,” he said slowly.

A Healer—not a student, thankfully—forced Wylan to sit down and let them fix up his hands. It was an easy fix, but even as the blood was wiped away, Wylan still saw it. The was the reality. This was what his weapons were going to be used. Destruction.

~*~

He always had known that Jesper was a bit restless. He never had realised how bad it was until Jesper was bedridden.

“I’m bored,” Jesper said, rolling onto his side to watch Wylan. “I want to go out.”

Wylan was gathering the cards they had used to play poker. He hadn’t been good at it, but it at least had kept Jesper entrained for thirty minutes. After that, he complained the stakes weren’t high enough and suggested strip-poker. Wylan promptly refused.

“And the healers say you need bed rest.” Wylan snapped back, already fed up with Jesper’s complaining.

“But I feel fine,” Jesper wined, rolling on his back and wincing.

“You don’t.” Wylan tried not to let his worry show too much. Jesper already had complained that he was tired of people mothering him and all Wylan wanted to do was the same thing. Comfort Jesper, making sure he was doing alright, promised that only a couple of days of bed rest left.

“I don’t,” Jesper agreed. “But I still feel like I at least could walk around, take in the scenery.”

Wylan tried to muster his best look of disbelief. “You really think that you just take a walk? You probably flee to the city and spend the entire day roaming around.”

“You could be my chaperone,” Jesper tried.

“And I would fail miserably. You likely will not listen, and I don’t want to hurt you, so I can’t stop you by force. By the time I would have made enough ruckus for anyone to show up, you would be long gone.”

Jesper hung his head in defeat. “I guess that there is some truth to that. You know that this.” He gestured to himself. “Isn’t your fault? I made the decision to protect you.”

“And that wouldn’t have been necessary if I just had ducked.” Wylan snapped back, a tight fist squeezing his heart. Why had Jesper done such a foolish thing?

Tying the playing cards together, Wylan got up, dusting off his clothes. “I’ll ask Nina if she wants to chaperone you on your walk.”

He didn’t have to see Jesper’s face to hear his sadness. “But you will join me for dinner?”

“Of course I will; a promise is a promise,” Wylan said before hurrying out of Jesper’s room.

He hated that he no longer could look at Jesper without feeling guilty. Jesper had told him that he would be fine, that it was fine. It had been his choice. The healers had said that Jesper had been incredibly lucky, that no major nerves, muscle or blood vessels had been punctured. It didn’t help that Jesper also had been off the whole time since the incident. Not just the restlessness, but it was like he didn’t quite know how to act around Wylan. Admittedly, that was a mutual issue. Wylan was ridden with guilt, feeling like he should have been the one bedridden.

It also had been another realisation that made seeing Jesper difficult. He was no longer just attracted to Jesper. He caught feelings, and he knew that their future would hold nothing but sadness. Grisha’s traditionally aged much slower than humans, outliving them. If he and Jesper fell in love, Wylan would die way before Jesper if it was mutual. Unless they were soulmates, but the likelihood of that was slim. It was uncommon for Grisha and a non-Grisha to be soulmates, and he doubted he and Jesper would be one of the lucky few. Not to mention that it was frowned upon. In the past, Grisha didn’t like the fact that someone humans could reach the same age as them, just because they were soulmates with a Grisha.

Wylan started his search for Nina, hoping to get his mind off the matter at hand. One of the Fabrikators had promised to help him work on his bombs and grenades as long as Jesper was bedridden. He had refused to continue with Jesper’s own project, feeling like that it would be unfitting. It was Jesper’s baby, not Wylan’s.

~*~

It took over a week after the incident for Jesper to be cleared, and Wylan couldn’t look him in the eye again. The continued on the project, Jesper having found new excitement for it. Wylan hadn’t quite mustered the enthusiasm that he would’ve liked, but he wasn’t slacking either. He couldn’t do much since his part was mostly over. He spends most of the time in the workshop, either watching Jesper put all sort of things together or working on his own things. His own things never worked as well as Jesper’s. Maybe he shouldn’t be the one making bombs since his work with metal was lacklustre compared to Fabrikator craft.

The things that Jesper made did work really well. They hadn’t had another real-life target, but the bombs and grenades left plenty of damage on the straw dummies the had ‘borrowed’. King Nikolai said he had borrowed them; Wylan wondered if he just had stolen them. If the king could actually steal stuff and not just demand it. Only the bullets were a struggle since they were small. Jesper stood by that they were necessary, and Wylan agreed reluctantly. They had blown up three straw men with their latest explosion. He had to admit that this wasn’t the best option if one of his peers would’ve been one of the straw men.

“So, did you read the message king Nikolai had sent us?” Jesper asked on their way back to the Little Palace. He was in a good mood, which made Wylan happy. Jesper had been off for a while, both during being bedridden and after that.

“No, still can’t read Ravkan.” Wylan lied.

Jesper raised an eyebrow as if it actually made him look haughty. “I can’t believe you aren’t bothering to learn. You’re so smart. You picked up the language in months.”

“I find speaking much easier than writing or reading,” Wylan said, this time not even lying. He just wasn’t telling the entire truth. “What did it say.”

“That the Khergud attack was a one-off, but people are told to at least travel in duos outside, just to be safe. He also mentioned that soon, there will be a training exercise for the students. Sieging the Little Palace,” Jesper told him.

“I guess we have to make ourselves scarce on that day,” Wylan said. He had to ask someone else—preferably neither David nor Nina—if Jesper was telling the truth.

“Or partake. I already signed us up.” Jesper was grinning now, looking at Wylan as if he knew that he didn’t want to do this. Honestly, Jesper likely knew that Wylan didn’t want to do this. 

“I’m not going to attack students,” Wylan protested.

“It’s hardly attacking, and it’s a good training exercise for them. It requires them to think out of the box.” Jesper was enjoying it, looking happier than Wylan had seen him in a while.

“We don’t have a fortress in Kerch,” Wylan said thoughtfully. “At least not in Ketterdam. But I remember hearing that you need three times the amount of men that your opponent has for a siege. I recall that the current class has about nineteen students?”

Jesper nodded, the smile never fading. “Exactly. The more Grisha volunteer, the harder it will be for them. I don’t know how many of us have signed up, but I think it’s at least more than six. It means they have to be creative about their attack.”

Wylan looked at the palace's exterior, taking in its sheer walls, the towers, the many points of entrance.

“What exactly is their objective?” Wylan asks.

“Take over the control of the palace by defeating their opponents. The easiest way is capturing one of us and use them for a hostage situation. But that is still dangerous since any of us could be loose canons. Ideally, they would kill the commander, but there will be no commander in this case. They have until sundown because then new troops will arrive.” Jesper air-quoted the last part. Wylan figured that there were no extra troops but was part of the hypothetical situation.

“Wouldn’t I be a liability?” Wylan asked. “I’m no Grisha.”

“Well, we’ll be up there.” Jesper pointed to one of the towers. “Only accessible by the staircase. Also, you’re allowed to use non-lethal weapons. You can rig up the entire tower if you want.”

Wylan already could imagine how easy it would be to make the students work for it. Fill it up with mist, put in trip-wire, maybe put up a puppet show. He had to ask what most Grisha was afraid of.

“Fine, but make sure they don’t catch me,” Wylan said, his threat clearly falling on deaf ears.

“We’ll go out guns blazing,” Jesper said, touching both of his revolvers and already looking up at their tower.

~*~

As Wylan had expected, it was an unfair battle. There were well over two dozen Grisha defending the Little Palace while there were only nineteen students. While all students had combat training, not all of them were actually fit for fighting. There were three Fabrikators and two Healers, which lowered their fighting count to fifteen. They needed four times as many people to have a fair shot at actually winning.

Wylan had spent most of his morning rigging the tower with whatever he could come up with. Realistically, he wouldn’t have the time to do so in an actual fight. Additionally, it would be impossible for Jesper and him to escape, something Jesper pointed out.

“That’s what I have brought a rope with me,” Wylan said, putting the big coil of rope in the corner of the balcony.

The tower leads to a large balcony, which had a perfect vantage point of the forest and the field before it. Normally, the students would split up in two, distracting one side of the palace to enter it on the other side. Only, they were with so little that Wylan though that it would be dumb.

“Smart thinking, did you rig up an alarm system?” Jesper asked, loading a rifle with what looked like rubber bullets. Painful but not lethal

“Of course I did, several. We’ll know if they climb the tower.” Wylan sat down next to Jesper, looking at the scenery in front of them.

King Nikolai had debriefed them of their goal, and everyone had gone their separate ways to put up their defences. Most of the Fabrikators hadn’t been happy when they were sent away from the workshop, even if it was just for a day.

“Are you sure you aren’t enjoying this more than I’m?” Jesper asked, putting his rifle aside and leaned against the railing. “Most of these kids won’t be gunning for the tower anyway with me up there. Last year, when I was still a student, I ‘defeated’ six of my opponents by shooting them down from this tower. The students know my reputation.”

“Isn’t that more the reason to conquer this tower? Bragging rights?”

“They wouldn’t do that, right?” Jesper asked.

“Would you do it?”

Jesper opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it.

“Case and point,” Wylan said, feeling a little smug.

Their piece was interrupted by a loud ringing noise, signalling the beginning of the training exercise. Jesper picked up his rifle and leaned on the balcony railing. Wylan joined him, waiting for the students to emerge from the forest. Strategically, this was the best location for an attack. This side had the sleeping quarters, and they could hide an unseen amount of people in the forest. There could be five of them or five-hundred. If this was an actual attack.

The first couple of students emerged, looking around with caution. They weren’t look up, though, clearly not expecting an attack from above. Admittedly, Jesper was the only Grisha Wylan knew that actually used guns as a mean of attack. Most of the only used their powers and had a dagger on hand just in case.

No more than five kids were hurrying over to the palace. Their body language was way too at ease, as if they had nothing to fear. It seemed that Jesper was ready to scare them.

The first rubber bullet hit one of the students against their chest. The bullet bounced off harmlessly, the Grisha barely flinching. A package of fake blood, tucked underneath their clothes, had erupted and started to soak their Kefta.

A second and third bullet had followed, hitting two other students. Both times, Jesper managed to hit the hidden targets. Even as the students started to scramble, and the two Squallers in the group started to fight back, Jesper hit most of them. Despite Jesper’s incredible skill, Wylan soon realised the field no longer held his attention. Instead, he was looking at Jesper.

His face was aglow with sweat and power. His eyes were like a storm; his tongue was sticking out in concentration. Reloading went automatically; adjusting his aim looked like no effort at all. He couldn’t quite find the Ravkan word for how he wanted to describe Jesper. Nowadays, his thoughts were a jumble of Ravkan and Kerch.

“Prachtig,” Wylan said, realising that this was the word he was looking for.

Jesper flinched, missing his next shot. He looked over at Wylan, looking at him in confusion.

“Ah, sorry. You’re a great shooter, but I couldn’t come up with the word for that.” Wylan was lying. He had called Jesper beautiful, and he wasn’t going to start that conversation.

Jesper kept looking at him wearily, but his saviour was in the form of his alarm going off.

“Told you about the bragging rights,” Wylan said, grinning at Jesper.

Aside from tripping up the students and clouding the entire tower in mist, he also had a couple of proper weapons. The alarm bell was the first one, which meant that the students had just entered the tower. He cut one of the paper-thin ropes he had strung and hoped that it worked. It took maybe a minute before shrieks of fright echoed through the tower, causing both of them to burst out in laughter.

Their laughter was short-lived when the second alarm started to ring. At least one of them had continued to climb the tower, not fearing the fake ghosts. So Wylan activated the second trap. It was a huge tub of oil that he had installed at the second-highest landing. It wouldn’t drown the students, but it would make everything slick. He only hoped that nobody would break their neck trying to ascend the stairs and trip.

“Go focus on your shooting; I will let you know when I need your help,” Wylan said, ushering Jesper away.

While it was tempting to watch Jesper in action, he knew that the last trap was really time-sensitive. If the Grisa managed to get to the last landing, he had only seconds to active his last trap. After that, if any of the kids managed to reach their position, it was easy to knock them out and tie them up. He knew that there was no such thing as too much rope.

It took a couple of minutes before the final alarm started to ring. Wylan cut through the cord. There was a loud bang, causing even Wylan’s ears to ring despite being out of range. It had been a flash bomb, noisy enough to cause people’s ears to ring and bright enough to temporarily blind them. He had made sure that they wouldn’t permanently injure the Grisha.

There was one Grisha that managed to enter the balcony. She was covered in oil, her hair was slightly scorched, and she seemed to be bobbly on her feet. She was also quite bruised; the skin underneath her right eye was starting to swell. Climbing this tower clearly wasn’t a fun activity, or they had a run-in with others before this.

Jesper pointed his gun at her, and she raised her hands, struggling to focus. Wylan tied her up and sat her down. He immediately went for his pack and took out a waterskin.

“Want some water?” he asked her. She nodded.

He fed her some water—untying a Grisha’s hands was the dumbest thing you could do—before he started to patch her up. He had no medical skills, but some of the healers had given him some stuff to use just in case.

They didn’t get any more visitors. Jesper managed to hit a couple of more students and another Grisha, who was on their side. Wylan figured that it had been on purpose. Wylan at least could imagine her glare aimed towards them. By the time the sun had set, they all gathered in the Little Palace.

The students were covered in fake blood and other things. A few had some scorched hair; others were slick with oil. Several students were tied up, their captures grinning in delight. Jesper wasn’t any different.

“Well, this years exercise was more exciting then I expected,” King Nikolai said, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. “Now, let’s get everyone to the infirmary and tomorrow we’re going over the results together. Know that you guys won’t fail because you failed this exercise. It was set up for failure; the goal is to learn. To the volunteers, thank you for helping. Wylan, next time you’re with me.”

Jesper grinned and nudged Wylan in the side. Wylan was just flabbergasted, unable to really respond to that aside from nodding. Did that mean king Nikolai was happy with his work? Or was he a danger and had to be kept close? Or worse, he didn’t like how Wylan looked at Jesper and worried that there might be something… _more_.

Wylan finally untied the Grisha they had capture. Her wrists were raw, and Wylan couldn’t help but apologise at least a handful of times.

“It’s your job,” she said, shaking off his apology. “And you did a good job at it. Half of the group ran off after you torched them.”

Wylan felt embarrassment hit him. “That… wasn’t the purpose. But I guess it still worked.”

The girl gingerly touched her hair, grimacing a little. She nodded and walked off to chat with one of her friends, who looked equally torched but less oily.

“I’m a danger for these kids,” Wylan told Jesper as they separated themselves from the group, heading towards their sleeping quarters. “I could’ve killed them.”

“You were a breath of fresh air.” Jesper slapped Wylan on the back. “Those kids underestimate normal people, but you showed them that you’re at least as dangerous as a Grisha.”

Wylan disagreed. “Even if I have a piece of flint, or water or a scrap of metal, I can’t do anything with it. Grisha can, and that is the difference. They don’t need man-made tools to be dangerous.”

“Yeah, but we can’t battle against your greatest skill,” Jesper said, stopping at Wylan’s room.

“And that skill is?” Wylan asked.

“Your cute, innocent face that makes them feel safe only for you to push them off the stairs,” Jesper said proudly.

Wylan was horrified. “I don’t push people off the stairs,” he protested.

“It was an example. You don’t look dangerous, which makes you all the more dangerous. People don’t realise that there is a brain behind those pretty eyes.”

When he got over the horrifying image, Wylan realised that Jesper had complimented him _twice_. Before he could ask what game Jesper was playing, the boy bolted away, yelling a goodbye. The goodbye was barely audible past his laughter.

Mortified, Wylan entered his room and locked the door behind him. He really had no idea what to make of Jesper, and he worried about that. He was going to ruin their working relationship before they could finish the project. Would king Nikolai throw him out of the country for that? Wylan didn’t know and didn’t want to, so he just had to gather himself and stop crushing on Jesper. How hard could it be?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! I tried my best to write about Wylan's illiteracy in a respectful way (one that doesn't infantilise him). However, I based it partially on my own neurodiversity (autism) but that isn't the same thing, so if my portrayal is harmful in any way, please point out what I can fix.

“So, you and Jesper?” Nina asked. She was balancing on the balls of her feet.

“We’re working on the same project, yes.” Wylan didn’t want to actually answer Nina’s question. He knew perfectly well what she implied.

There was a loud sigh, and Nina shifted in her seat, now fulling looking at Wylan. Before, she mostly had been eyeing the food that she had brought with her.

“You know what I mean. You can say that you and Jesper are attached to the hip. You look so happy around him. Not to mention that I haven’t seen Jesper flirt with anyone in weeks, if not months. Are you sure that your feelings are solely platonic?” It was as if Nina was looking straight through to him, which was slightly unnerving. If he was that obvious about it, would Jesper have realised it too?

“It doesn’t matter; he isn’t my soulmate,” Wylan said, the words hitting different when saying out loud.

Nina gave him a disappointed stare, putting down the food she just had picked up. “Really? The soulmate excuse. Plenty of people live happily with someone that isn’t their soulmate.”

“But they don’t _die_ decades before their partner.” Wylan snapped. “Why would Jesper _not_ find his soulmate? He would find someone that could be his partner for life, not a partner for half his life.”

It took Nina a bit before she responded. She first took a couple of bites of the food, clearly mulling over her respond.

“How do you know that Jesper isn’t your soulmate?” Nina asked.

Was he going to tell her? It wasn’t like he would lose his job since king Nikolai sort of knew. But he worried that she would tell anyone else, even accidentally. He didn’t want people’s opinion about him to change because he couldn’t read or write. He was perfectly capable of doing other things. He had tried his best to show that he was capable.

“I don’t know what my soulmate words are,” Wylan whispered, hoping that Nina might just not hear it.

“How can’t you know?” Nina asked, sounding baffled. “It’s Ravkan, right? You can speak the language, so reading shouldn’t be too much issue. And otherwise, I could help you translate it.”

Wylan shook his head. He wasn’t sure if he even could say the words. He hadn’t ever said them out loud, and he worried how it would change Nina’s opinion of him. “I can’t read it at all. I can’t write either. My father tried for so long, but nothing worked. Letters just… they jump across the pages. My soulmate words are the same.”

“I never knew,” Nina said.

Wylan shrugged. “It isn’t like I go around telling people. My father thought me a disgrace. A son who couldn’t read or write? How would I ever take over his business? I have learnt how to work around it, but it isn’t like I can just hire someone to read all my important papers. Ketterdam is corrupt; nobody can truly be trusted.”

“But if you don’t know who your soulmate is and never will, why won’t you try to find someone?”

“Who would pick me over their soulmate?” Wylan asked.

Nina leaned on her knees, propping up her head. She looked serious, the playfulness from before gone. “I would, Jesper probably would. Your illiteracy doesn’t make you any less of a person. We all have our things that make life harder for us. Jesper can’t sit still, ever. He is always brimming with energy. At times, he drives me crazy. But I love him nonetheless because he isn’t just his restless energy.”

Wylan was caught off guard. He hadn’t thought of comparing it to Jesper’s restless or anything else. He saw Jesper’s restlessness as an annoyance, but one he had accepted. If he followed that logic, why wouldn’t Jesper accept his illiteracy? It wasn’t something he could fix; all he could do was learn to live with it. Even if he let Jesper read all his messages.

“Thanks for telling me,” Nina told him, squeezing his knee. “Now, let’s change topics. King Nikolai is considering a mission—far in the future, mind you—and I think you might be a good fit.”

The change of topic threw him slightly off. A mission?

“Why?” Wylan ended up asking.

“Well, you said that you spoke Fjerdan.”

~*~

Wylan was lifted off his feet and twirled around by Jesper as they reached their final prototype. He had forgotten what number prototype this one. His estimate would be around the thirty. It had taken a lot of tweaking—sizes of the bullets, the makeup of its content, adjusting it to normal rifles. Currently, Ravka didn’t have the resources to make an entirely new line of rifles. Wylan gave all the credits to Jesper. At times, he wondered why Jesper still strung him along, but maybe it was the company. He did like to spend time with Jesper, even if, at times, it left both of them frustrated at their progress.

“Put me down,” Wylan said, tapping Jesper’s shoulder. He couldn’t remember being this happy in a long time, happy enough to not scold Jesper for treating him like a maiden.

He was gingerly put on his feet. He looked up at Jesper’s face, overwhelmed by the sheer joy on his face. “I can’t believe we actually did it!” He never had heard Jesper sound so giddy. “It had been this silly passion project of mine, and then you came along, and now we have a weapon against the Grisha’s most feared opponents, and the Shu know nothing about it.”

Jesper’s smile was infectious, so it wasn’t hard to smile back. “I’m happy that I could help, I…”

Wylan didn’t finish that sentence. He didn’t want to turn the mood sour, though the first thought he had was that, for once, he actually had made the difference. But Jesper did not know that, and he was not going to tell him that.

They cleaned up their things and headed back the familiar path to the Little Palace. Wylan realised that this might be the last time they would be walking this path.

“What are your plans after this?” Jesper asked. The cheerfulness felt forced.

“Not sure. Maybe the king will put me back on cleaning duty,” Wylan joked, though he hoped that it wasn’t the case. He had liked working the workshop, even though he felt out of place at times.

“That would be a waste,” Jesper said. “How would I ever see you again?”

He wasn’t sure either. If he had no business in the Little Palace, it would be much harder to see Jesper.

“Well, you did promise me to teach me how to shoot. I think it will take a while before we get there.” Wylan had no desire to actually learn how to shoot, but if that means he could spend more time with Jesper.

“I forgot I did,” Jesper said, his smile slowly returning. “I fear I’ll be stuck with you for a while longer.”

~*~

King Nikolai was absolutely thrilled with they finally had a breakthrough. He ended up putting most of the Fabrikators on reproduction duty, using Jesper’s notes as a guide. They technically were Wylan’s notes, but Jesper had written them down.

Wylan was temporarily banned from the workshop, spending his time roaming the hallways or visiting the city with Nina. It was well two weeks after their final prototype that Wylan was summoned to the throne room. He recognised the man that fetched him, though it had been months. He was one of the king’s personal guards, one of the Shu twins. Wylan liked this one—Tolya if he recalled correctly—better than his twin sister. She was scary.

“I’m going back to cleaning duty?” Wylan asked Tolya as they walked to the Grand Palace. Tolya didn’t answer.

While he didn’t want to go back to cleaning duty, he preferred it over being sent home. After all, there was likely still a hundred-thousand kruge price on his head. This would be a nice amount of money for the kingdom.

The throne room was empty but for him, king Nikolai and Tolya. The Shu took guard at the door, and Wylan walked up to the throne, kneeling. It was entirely different from the last time he spoke with the king when they had met in the private chambers.

“I know I’ve told you and Fahey before, but I’m very pleased with the results.” King Nikolai said. Wylan wondered where this conversation was going.

“However, I hadn’t quite planned what to do with you when you were done. I honestly expected that it would be a fruitless experiment, but it would have kept Fahey busy. He isn’t quite fit for the workshop, and if we weren’t struggling so much, I would have put him on active duty. But we’re sandwiched between two countries that are preying on us, and we need every advantage we can get.”

If he was entirely honest, he had no idea what the king was trying to say. Wylan would much rather have been told outright that he would be sent home to Kerch instead of having to listen to an hour of prattling. But he didn’t dare to disrupt the king.

“But I’m getting off track,” the king said as if he could have read Wylan’s thoughts. Wylan found that idea a bit chilling, wondering if the king actually had those powers. “What I’m saying that I’m really happy with your work and ask if you’re interested in staying here for a while longer. You’re an asset to the workshop, Zenik adores you and will have my head if I send you away, and I’m not cruel. It’s clear you and Fahey have a… thing going on, and I’m not getting in the way of that.”

The king looked awfully smug. Wylan tried to school his features, but he never had been good at that. He was convinced that his cheeks were cherry red, that his face showed his embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Jesper and I aren’t… involved,” Wylan said, hoping that addressing the king with ‘sir’ wouldn’t have him packing to Kerch. “I’m grateful that I’m allowed to stay here.”

King Nikolai looked unconvinced. “You and Fahey aren’t together, romantically? I’ve heard from multiple sources that you two joined at the hip.”

“We’re just not together, but it isn’t a bad thing. Friendships can last you a lifetime.” Wylan was straight-up lying, and he knew that the king also knew that.

There was a truth to it, though. A friendship could last you a lifetime. As friends, you didn’t have to spend every waking second with one another. You didn’t have to live together. If there was a fight, you could stop seeing each other for a few weeks, maybe months. But if you were together, romantically, creating that distance was hard. If the relationship failed, you could never return to friendship.

The lie had been that it wasn’t a bad thing. Wylan wouldn’t die if he never dated Jesper. But he also couldn’t stop himself from feeling something different towards Jesper. He liked being with Jesper, liked the lack of personal space Jesper seemed to have. He had yet to find the courage to return those touches, especially since he couldn’t imagine them being anything but romantic. Smoothing out Jesper’s frown as he was focussing, running his hands through Jesper’s short hair, holding his hand, rubbing over his long fingers.

But he had to make peace with it. He couldn’t read his soulmate words, so he would never truly know. Right now, he was just going to enjoy the fact that he was allowed to stay here, allowed to make a difference. A year ago, he was still excited to go to music school, not yet realising that this was never his destination. But maybe Os Alta was the better, final destination.

~*~

“At times, I hate that we managed to produce a successful prototype.” Jesper hid a yawn behind his hand. “I hardly have left the workshop.”

Wylan was surprised that the king had managed to contain Jesper for that long. He had no idea what kind of card game they were playing—Jesper had refused to explain the rules—so he ended up throwing a random card. Jesper didn’t complain, so either he was actually following the rules, or there were no rules.

“But you’re done now, right?” Wylan asked as Jesper added another card to the pile. He wondered what odd rule made that combination legitimate.

“Thankfully. What did I miss? You’re the first person I’ve seen aside from the other Fabrikators.”

His heart leapt at that. He found it weirdly flattering that he was the first person Jesper had sought out. He easily could have gone to Nina or other friends he had here.

“Not much, I think.” Wylan could hardly contain his smile. “Well, aside from the fact that the king requested me to stay in the Little Palace a while longer. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jesper’s entire face lit up. “So you’re staying? No ‘teaching on how to shoot’ excuse needed?”

“No excuse needed,” Wylan said. He was thrilled by Jesper’s reaction. He had worried that maybe, Jesper would change his mind. At times he wondered if he was even fun to be around.

“That’s great, wonderful.” Jesper had all but forgotten about their impromptu card game. “Because honestly, you’re terrible at shooting. I think a dagger would serve you much better and explosions. It seems that you have a knack for blowing things up.”

“And I still would have done it, the shooting lessons,” Wylan said, knowing full well the implications of his words.

To his surprise, Jesper looked to be something akin to abashed. Jesper was always comfortable saying flirty and sweet things to Wylan, but it seemed that having them returned—even implied—was something else.

“Can I ask you something?” Jesper asked.

The comfortable atmosphere between them shattered, and dread pooled in Wylan’s stomach. This wasn’t a flustered ‘can I ask you something?’ This was a serious one. At least, that was the tone Wylan thought he heard.

“Okay.”

“I know that it isn’t my place to ask this, but I have been thinking about your father.” Jesper was folding and refolding his cards, long fingers deftly moving the paper between his fingers. “The story doesn’t add up, in my head. If your father has kicked you out and tried to kill you for liking guys, why didn’t you just ruin his reputation? Why not go around and tell everyone? You never seem to have much turmoil over liking guys, so it isn’t like you are afraid to tell everyone.”

He wasn’t surprised that Jesper eventually would catch on. Jesper had found the fault in his story. Why wouldn’t Wylan throw his father for the wolves?

Wylan closed his eyes, hoping that not seeing Jesper helped with the nerves. It didn’t. “I lied about that. The reason why he disowned me. Not that my father tried to kill me, that he did.”

“Then what’s the truth?” Jesper asked. Wylan had yet to open his eyes, afraid to see the hurt or the disappointment.

He startled, opening his eyes as Jasper grabbed one of his hands. Jesper had put down his cards, like Wylan had done before, and was holding Wylan’s right hand between two of his own. “Please tell me,” he whispered.

“I’m illiterate,” Wylan whispered as if that helped to soften the blow. “I can’t read or write. No matter how hard my father tried, I just couldn’t. I would never be able to take over his business. Even if I could, he deemed me a mistake. It was never about liking guys. When I left, my stepmom was pregnant with a child. My father decided to make him the heir instead of me. He didn’t want to be associated with someone like me, and I was too ashamed to use it against him. I could have ruined his reputation, but I was scared that people would judge me. That they also would see the faults.”

“He tried to kill you because you can’t read and write?” Jesper asked in disbelief. “But why? You speak three languages, you’re good with numbers, you’ve made an explosion from scratch. You could just hire someone to do the reading and writing for you.”

Wylan shrugged. He truly didn’t know. “Ask my father, I guess.”

“I can’t believe I never noticed,” Jesper said, letting go of Wylan’s hand to run it through his short hair. “I mean, you probably have to spend your entire life pretending, so I guess you can hide it. But I honestly thought the whole time you just didn’t grasp the Ravkan language properly.”

“It was an easy excuse,” Wylan admitted.

“Thank you for telling—” Jesper gasped.

Jesper stared at him. Wylan fidgetted nervously, wondering what Jesper was thinking. He hoped that it was nothing bad, but it might as well be. Maybe he had realised another lie Wylan had told him.

“Before I say anything else, I want to let you know that I like you,” Jesper said.

Wylan, being the idiot he was at the moment, wanted to say something akin to ‘thankfully you like me; otherwise, you would be an idiot to spend time with me’. But thankfully, Jesper didn’t give him much time to answer. It at least cleared up the initial vagueness, though it did little to stop Wylan’s internal turmoil.

“As in a, you know, I want to kiss you way? I love spending time with you whenever it’s frustrating the crap out of you or watching your entire face lit up. Did you know that I tried to count your freckles? But anyway, that isn’t important now.” Jesper dismissed his claims with a wave of a hand as if he hadn’t just sent Wylan reeling. “But if you can’t read, how do you know your soulmate words.”

“I can’t read them,” Wylan stammered, trying to put together a response for Jesper’s initial confession.

“So you don’t know your words, which means we still can be soulmates. You did say mine.” Jesper was beaming at him. Wylan wanted to feel happy too, but he only felt dread.

“But how do you know that it was me that said your words and not anyone else? Everyone here speaks Ravkan.”

“Because it wasn’t Ravkan,” Jesper said softly, even nervously.

So it had to be Kerch. It explained why Jesper had been surprised when Wylan had revealed he was from Kerch instead of the Wandering Isles. He likely had ruled out Wylan as being his soulmate until that revelation. But Wylan never talked in Kerch with Jesper. Jesper knew some of the language but not enough to have a proper conversation. The only moment he recalled when he stupidly had spoken Kerch was during the training exercise when Wylan had called Jesper beautiful. He also remembered that Jesper had missed his shot, startled. Could it have been that the word itself had surprised Jesper and not the fact that Wylan suddenly had talked?

“It’s ‘prachtig’, isn’t it?” Wylan asked. Jesper nodded.

He showed Wylan the inside of his left arm. Wylan couldn’t miraculously read the word, the letters dancing over his arm. But it was one word and—

Wylan realised that it wasn’t actually a blur. He had seen other people’s soulmate words, and they were always blurred. There wasn’t even a letter soup, just a blur. But this time, it wasn’t a blur. It was just like Wylan was looking at a book, trying to read something. Could this mean Jesper was his soulmate? Or was it a cruel trick?

“I can’t read,” Wylan admitted. Jesper’s smile faltered. “Can I ask you something? What do you think are the words I carry? It’s believed that soulmates usually know what each other’s words are; it’s usually the moment when they—”

When they realise they are in love. He figured that his word had been fitting. Wylan had been attracted to Jesper for a while, but at one point, he knew that there was no turning back. He wondered when that moment had hit Jesper.

“Probably when you nearly blew yourself up,” Jesper said, looking to be lost in thought. “When I saw you squaring off against the Khergud, I realised that I didn’t want to lose you. I still can’t believe how idiotic you were for someone so brilliant.”

Wylan still remembered that day, though it more often than not showed up his nightmares then his dreams. Nightmares about Jesper saving his life, confessing his love and then dying. Jesper never had been close to dying and had only a few scars left of the incident. But the nightmares hadn’t stopped. He vividly recalled what Jesper had said. You’re absolutely crazy. Brilliant but crazy. If translated to Kerch, it would have been seven words. But in Ravkan, it was six words, the same count as the words of his soulmark.

He didn’t grow up with the teachings of the Ravkan saints. But he prayed to whatever one was in charge of soulmates if there was any. Wylan got up and showed Jesper the words on his hip, hoping that he wasn’t a fool.

“These are the worst words ever.” Wylan never had realised how awkward the hip-placement of his mark until Jesper was leaning way too close. “I called you crazy twice.”

“But also brilliant,” Wylan pointed out.

Jesper looked away from his soulmark, looking up at him with soft eyes. “Also brilliant.”

“Now, stop being creepily close to my crotch,” Wylan said, pulling up his pants again.

“How to ruin a romantic moment,” Jesper said, leaning back into this chair. It was tipped on two legs now, and Wylan feared for Jesper’s early demise.

“Well, you didn’t have to get this close.” Wylan’s stammered through his protest, doing a poor job. “And I didn’t ruin the mood, I—”

He wanted what? To hug Jesper? To hold him? To kiss him? He probably would be a terrible kisser. Right now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to kiss anyone. He wanted to crawl in bed and spend the next two hours mulling over the fact that he had found his soulmate. That he found his soulmate and didn’t even properly freak out or rejoice. They just were smiling at one another as if they knew all along. Maybe they had. Their easy companionship was the reason they were soulmates. These were the times he wished he knew more about soulmates and knew more about others' experience. Was he supposed to freak out?

“This isn’t how I expected this to go,” Jesper admitted. “I always expected that this soulmate thing would be like a huge deal.”

Wylan was relieved that he wasn’t the only one that felt weird about this whole thing. Though, actually, it made sense. Wylan was relieved that Jesper was his soulmate, but it didn’t miraculously make him fall in love with him. He had been falling for months for Jesper. He wanted to be together with him even before knowing. The whole soulmate thing had been a reason why he was so hesitant. And the Grisha thing.

“I remember my mum telling me stories about soulmates. People realised who their other half was quite soon after they met. The maiden and prince knew they belonged together after two days. The farmer and the local witch were the same. What makes us different, what makes most people different. We fell in love with each other before we knew that we were soulmates. We wanted to be together without realising if we were a set.”

Jesper was looking at him in surprise. Wylan didn’t think he had said anything weird, though maybe Jesper had grown up with other stories than he had.

“You love me?” Jesper whispered.

The whole ‘love each other’ part sounded logical to him, but neither of them had shared their feelings before. Wylan was surprised that he had used it. He couldn’t know Jesper’s feelings, but he knew his own. He hadn’t expected his feelings to run as deep as love.

“I do,” Wylan said, hesitant. “At least, I think so. I never have been in love before, so I don’t quite know what it feels like. But I like what I feel and want to see what’s more for offer.”

“I also—”

Jesper was rudely interrupted by a couple of Grisha stumbling into the communal space, chattering way too loudly. But the look of it, they were at least a little tipsy.

Wylan received an awkward smile when one of the Grisha spotted them. Well, spotted the deck of cards.

“What are you playing?” the Grisha asked, plopping down on one of the empty seats.

The other two followed, and Wylan knew that their conversation had ended for now. Jesper, too, seemed to resign to his fate, explaining the rules to the newcomers and dealing the cards.

~*~

It took the people in the Little Palace three days to realise that _something_ had changed between Wylan and Jesper. Well, it took Nina three days to realise what was going on. The rest either didn’t care or weren’t nosey enough to actually comment on it.

“You’re together,” Nina said accusingly, cornering Wylan after lunch. “You and Jesper, and you didn’t tell me?”

“I’m… sorry?” Wylan stammered. He had thought it had been fairly obvious.

Nina lightly punched him on the shoulder. “I told you he would say yes. You have told him about the thing, right?”

“Of course,” Wylan said. Admittedly, he hadn’t planned on either confessing his crush or his other secret. “Though, Jesper mostly figured it out on his own.”

Wylan fidgetted. Nina was crowding into his space, and he wished she could give him some breathing room.

“Oops, sorry.” Nina took a step back. “Care to take a walk?”

Relieved, Wylan nodded, and they walked side-to-side, Wylan struggling to keep up with Nina’s brisk pace.

“He probably called you brilliant.” Nina giggled.

“He did.”

He knew that being called ‘brilliant’ wasn’t the most romantic thing in the world, but for Wylan, the word made his heart beat fast. He never had been called brilliant before. At times, he got the compliment that he was smart, with the added ‘despite’. Jesper had called him crazy, but crazy he could do.

“It wouldn’t be my way to someone’s heart,” Nina admitted in a whisper as they passed two Grisha. “Are you sure he isn’t your soulmate?”

Wylan’s cheeks warmed up. He found a sudden interest in the stone floor.

Nina squealed. “He is? What are the odds?” She had grabbed his arm and shook him.

“Yes and sssh.” Wylan eyed the other Grisha wearily. He wasn’t sure how well Jesper and his relationship would be received. He was aware that not all Grisha approved of human soulmates. The few Grisha turned away when he spotted them.

“How did you figure it out?” Nina whispered, letting go of Wylan’s arm.

“Jesper’s words are unreadable, but… they weren’t blurry, like the rest.”

Nina’s entire face was alight. They walked side-by-side for a while until they arrived at Nina’s room. Nina dragged her feet, looking guilty.

Nina battened her eyelashes at him and finally spoke her mind. “So, about Jesper’s words—”

“No,” Wylan said, cutting her off.

Nina shrugged. “I could try.” A sly smile curled on her lips. “Have you guys kissed yet?”

“None of your business,” Wylan stuttered. It wasn’t the kind of question he had expected.

“But I want to make it my business,” Nina teased.

Then, to his surprise, she gave him a one-armed hug and wished him goodbye. Wylan ended up rooted to the spot, unsure what to do. It might have been since his mother’s passing that he had been genuinely hugged.

~*~

Wylan dropped his shirt when someone pounded loudly on the door. Picking it back up on pulling it on, he unlocked his bedroom door en opened it. The lock was more symbolic since most Grisha could break open his door easily.

Jesper was standing in his doorway, hands resting on his knee, sweat trickling down his face and slattering on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Wylan asked. “Come in; I will grab some water.”

He poured a glass of water from his half-empty pitcher and handed it to Jesper. Jesper drowned it one go.

Wylan sat down on his bed. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s dumb, really, but I realised I never said it back.” Jesper sat down on Wylan’s wobbly desk chair.

“Said what back?”

“That I love you,” Jesper said breathlessly.

“But you already… _oh_.”

Jesper had never confessed his love to him. It had been cut off when the other Grisha had walked into the lounge room. His heart was hammering against his chest, and his skin felt like it was aflame.

Wylan hadn’t noticed that Jesper had gotten up until he was hovering above Wylan. Jesper leaned closer, and Wylan squeezed his eyes shut. Wet lips pressed against his forehead, a hand gently brushed his cheek.

He looked up through his eyelashes to see Jesper look flustered.

“Goodnight!” Jesper shouted. He stumbled over his own legs as he turned around and fled Wylan’s room.

Jesper loved him and was that—was that their first kiss? Was that all it took for a first kiss to happen? Did it count as a first kiss?

Wylan let himself fall on his bed and stare at the ceiling. He wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight.

~*~

Jesper had to leave soon for a two-week training mission, so he had dragged Wylan to some hidden alcove in the Little Palace. There wasn’t much kissing—Wylan had realised he wasn’t too much into kissing. He preferred gentle touches, casual. There was something casual about Jesper’s touched that made Wylan swoon instead of uncomfortable.

“It’s just two weeks,” Wylan muttered.

“Yeah, but I will still miss you,” Jesper muttered.

Their foreheads were pressed together, which forced Wylan to crane his neck. Jesper had one hand on Wylan’s hip and the other tucked in the back of his pants. Wylan had no idea where to put his hands and ended up gripping the hem of Jesper’s kefta.

“We have managed for seventeen—”

A false cough made them jump apart. Wylan craned his neck to see over Jesper’s shoulder and saw that king Nikolai stood there. There was a smug smile on his face, and he had folded his arms, looking at them expectingly.

“You know,” he started. “There are better spots for kissing.”

“But this one was the closest,” Jesper said, failing to sound well put-together.

King Nikolai looked delighted. Wylan would have bowed if Jesper hadn’t still caged him in.

“Fahey, the briefing starts in five. I recommend that you say your goodbyes and head over there,” king Nikolai said, tapping his watch.

Jesper pressed a kiss against Wylan’s cheek, lips a little dry. “See you later,” he added cheerfully. He bowed for king Nikolai, even addressed him properly before leaving for his training mission.

The moment Jesper was gone, king Nikolai pounced. “You aren’t together?” he asked smugly.

“We weren’t back then,” Wylan said defensively.

“My mistake.” Before, king Nikolai had reminded him of a cunning merchant. Now he reminded Wylan of a cat that was about to pounce on its next meal. “Now, I actually came here for you and not to tell you and Fahey off. What you do in your free time isn’t my concern. I have a proposition for you. You speak, Fjerdan, right?”

Wylan nodded.

“Perfect.”

~*~

Wylan knew that summer was heading their way. The spring days had turned their backs on the crisp mornings, and now, at times, the heat was sweltering. For Wylan. Jesper had laughed at his misery, telling him about the hot summer days in Novyi Zem. Wylan imagined that he would have a sunburn on the first day he would be there.

He had thought a lot about Novyi Zem as of lately. Jesper had sent him letters while away on a training mission—one that had been extended for almost a month. A lot of these letters talked about home since it was a safe option, apparently. Nina had been kind enough to read them out loud, at times snickering or gagging when Jesper said something silly or sappy. The letters talked about a home Wylan wished he had but knew he couldn’t. He didn’t even know how long it had been since Jesper had visited home. There were also many drawings he hadn’t shown Nina.

By the time Jesper had returned from his mission, Wylan was in the middle of dealing with the Fjerdan delegation. They liked him, liked that he spoke their language and knew their country. They knew that he worked for king Nikolai, yet they tended to be loose-tongued around him. Maybe they expected Wylan to jump ship and go to Fjerda with them. It didn’t really matter, king Nikolai seemed to be happy with whatever he was doing, and Wylan was thrilled to showcase his Fjerdan.

“When are the Fjerdan’s leaving?” Jesper asked over dinner.

Jesper had decided that they should go on a date since it had been a while. He had demanded that Wylan would actually join him and not spend the evening with the Fjerdan delegation. Surprisingly, king Nikolai had let him go.

The dinner was a heated meal from the kitchen, a table and two chairs in Jesper’s bedroom. There were a few candles, but instead of setting the mood, they made Wylan jumpy. What if something caught fire? The candles were awfully close to some inflammable things, like the curtains or potted plants.

“They leave the day after tomorrow,” Wylan said, putting another mouthful of food in his mouth. He had no idea what it was, but he was ravenous. Skipping lunch had been foolish. “So I really have to spend tomorrow night with them. I am surprised that king Nikolai has let me this evening off.”

Wylan felt slightly embarrassed that he was speaking and eating simultaneously, even if he used the back of his hand to cover his mouth. His father would have a heart attack had he seen him like this.

“I asked,” Jesper said vaguely.

For a few seconds, Wylan wondered if this was a proposal. The set-up seemed to be right, and Jesper had been quite distracted. However, they knew each other for half a year, and they were young. Not to mention that they hadn’t even talked about marriage.

“And why did you ask?” Wylan asked, this time swallowing his food before talking.

Jesper grinned. “I got a letter back from my dad. I actually sent the last letter before we were together, so he doesn’t know yet. But I asked if you could come with me to Novyi Zem for the summer. It’s a part of the deal. I stay here for about ten months, and I spend two months at home. He was okay with it, though you have to pay for your own voyage—which means I will cover your costs.”

Despite his hunger, Wylan was no longer paying attention to his food. He was staring at Jesper, dumbstruck.

“You asked if I could tag along even before we were together?” Wylan asked, his voice wobbly.

Jesper nodded. “Yeah, I thought that it would be nice for you and me. I don’t want to spend an entire summer with just my dad, and I think it would be nice for you to have something akin to a normal household. Away from the crazy people here.”

“But mostly because you don’t want to be alone with your dad,” Wylan teased, though there was little that hid the crack in his voice. He thought that it was incredibly thoughtful of him.

“To be honest, I might have told him a lot about you. I think he’s thinking that he’s playing matchmaker by allowing you to come with me.” Jesper paused. “He probably will try to intimidate you and see if you’re right for me, and he probably will cry when he finds out that we’re soulmate. He always hoped that I would have the same as he and my ma had.”

“Do you think it’s safe for me to travel?” Wylan asked, his excitement lessened by the fear of being discovered.

“I already talked with king Nikolai about it. He’s planning to leave in a couple of days to see Novyi Zem's delegation, and we’re going with him. We’ll be heading back with the Novyi Zem’s delegation two months later. The king is still figuring out how to keep your identity a secret. I’m thinking about faking your own death to keep your dad off our trail. We have Genya; she could tailor a body to look just like you.”

Even fake-dying sounded horrifying. But it would mean his father would stop looking for him. He would have the freedom to travel around.

“Wait—did you said that we will leave in a couple of days?” Wylan asked, only now realising how soon that actually was.

“So that’s a yes?” Jesper asked. He looked ridiculously happy as if he expected Wylan to say no.

Wylan nodded. “But that doesn’t answer my question. I promised David I would help him with a project—what do I tell him?”

“Tell him that king Nikolai has asked you to help him talking to the Novyi Zem’s delegation.”

“But I don’t even speak the language,” Wylan argued. “Which I still want to learn.”

Jesper held up his hands in retreat. “And I promise that I will teach you. But David probably will forget in a couple of days and will pick up the project the moment you get back—I think he has enough projects to last him a lifetime.”

There was some truth to that. Genya, his wife, had to often drag him out of the workshop.

“Do you think your father will like me?” Wylan asked, going back to the actual topic. “I mean, I don’t think that I’m the person your father expects you to end up with.”

“I don’t know what my father expects, but I hardly can imagine he won’t like you.” Jesper leaned over the table. Instead of kissing Wylan like he had hoped, Jesper messed up his hair. His carefully styled hair for his job ended up in ruins. “I find you very likeable.”

Wylan grimaced and tried to swat Jesper’s hand away. “I’m glad that you like me since we’re dating and all.”

“We’re dating? I thought we were just hanging out?” Jesper didn’t even try to be serious.

“Well, you called it a date night, so I think this is a date? And if this is a date, we’re likely dating. Especially since this isn’t our first date.”

“You’ve got a point,” Jesper said.

“I know, I’m often right.” He tried to sound smug but failed miserably. “But I’m looking forward to meeting your father. I can imagine that he’s great.”

Seeing the person Jesper was and the fondness Jesper had for his dad, Wylan imagined the man to be nothing but great. At least much better than his own father.

“Not as great as me, I hope,” Jesper said.

“Saints no,” Wylan said, grimacing. “No way you’re getting rid of me that easily. I fear you will be stuck with me for a while longer.”

“I could imagine worse things.” Jesper offered Wylan his hand, palm up. Delicately, he slotted his own fingers between Jesper’s long one’s.

“I agree. Like having my partner implying that I might have the hots for his father.”

“It was a joke,” Jesper protested.

All Wylan did in response was squeezing Jesper’s hand. The moment was ruined by Wylan’s stomach rumbling. He really shouldn’t have skipped lunch.

Jesper let go of his hand, using it to hide his grin. It was pretty useless; he soon was laughing out loud. Wylan was torn between embarrassment and joining Jesper in his joy. After his stomach rumbled another time, he laughed. At times like these, he wished he could back to his younger self. The person who was living on the streets, but even before that. Tell him that things would look up and that he would find happiness in the most unexpected places.


End file.
